CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(l\/lonographs) 


ICiyAH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographles) 


111 


Canadian  Inatituta  for  HIatorical  MIcroraproductlona  /  Inatitut  Canadian  da  microraproductiona  liittoriquaa 


©1995 


Tflchnteal  and  Bibltographie  Notts  /  Nom  MehniqiNS  ct  biblJographiqun 


Th«  Initltutt  hM  atMmptMl  to  obtain  tlw  bait  orifinal 
copy  availabl*  for  filmins.  Faaturas  of  thh  copy  which 
may  bt  Wbliojraphieally  imiqua,  mrhich  may  altar  any 
of  tht  imagat  in  tha  ra(./odiiction,  or  which  may 
significantly  changa  tha  usual  mathod  of  filming,  art 


0 

D 
D 
D 
D 
0 
Q 
D 
D 


D 


n 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couvertura  da  coulaur 

Covars  damagad/ 
Couvartura  andommagfa 

Covars  rastorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Couvartura  rastaurte  at/ou  pallieuMa 

Com  titia  missing/ 

Lt  titra  da  couvartura  manqua 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartas  gtographiquai  an  ooulaur 

Cotourad  >nk  (i.e.  othar  than  tAut  or  black)/ 
Encra  da  coulaur  (j.a.  autre  que  Maue  ou  notre) 

Coloured  plaits  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  at/ou  illustrations  an  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Ralii  avac  d'autras  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
alofifl  interior  mar^n/ 

La  reliure  sarrie  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  da  la 
distorsion  la  long  da  la  marge  intiriaura 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
bean  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  sc  peut  que  cartaines  pages  blanches  ajouties 
lors  d'una  rastauration  apparaissant  dans  le  texti, 
mais,  lorsqua  ccia  toit  possible,  cas  pages  n'ont 
pas  iti  film^. 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentairas  supplimentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meillaur  exemplaire  qu'il 
lui  a  M  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet 
examplaira  qui  sont  paut-4tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue 
bibliographique,  qui  pauvani  modifier  una  image 
reprodufte,  ou  qui  pauvant  exiger  une  modification 
dans  la  mithoda  normale  de  fihnaga  sont  irKHii4iis 
ci-dessous. 

□  Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 


□  Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endomma 


endommigiii 

□  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  rattaurAes  at/ou  palliculias 

0  Pages  dtscolourad.  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dicotor^,  tachattas  ou  piquias 

□  Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ditachtes 


QShowthrough/ 
Transparence 


□  Quality  of  print  varies/ 
I 


D 


I  Quality  ini^alt  da  I'imprtssion 

Continuous  pagination/ 
Pagination  continua 


□  Indudai  indaxlail/ 
Cofliprand  un  (dail  indax 


TitI*  on  htadar  takan  from:/ 
La  titrt  da  I'an-tta  proviant; 


□  TitIa  paga  of  inue/ 
Paga  da  titra  da  la  li>raison 

I        I  Caption  of  iuu*/ 


Titra  da  dipart  da  la  livraison 

Maithaad/ 

Ganariqua  (pariodiquas)  da  la  livraison 


I       I  Maithaad/ 


Thii  itam  ii  filmad  at  ttw  raduction  ratio  chaekad  balow/ 

Ca  documant  ast  filmi  au  taux  da  rMuction  indi<|u«  ci-danout. 


lOX 

r     1 

ux 

18X 

Z2X 

26X 

KX 

_j 

J 

1 

1 

1 

1 

12X 

1«X 

XX 

24X 

28  X 

33  « 

Tha  copy  filmed  h*ra  hat  baan  raproducad  thanks 
to  tha  ganarosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'axamplaira  filmi  fut  reproduit  grlca  A  la 
ginirosit*  da: 

Bibllothiqua  nationale  du  Canada 


The  images  appearing  hare  are  tha  bast  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  Iceeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  In  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  end  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  Illustrated  Impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  epproprlata.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginniri)  on  tha 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  Illustrated  impres- 
sion,  and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  lest  recorded  frame  on  eech  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — *■  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  ▼  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  epplies. 


Las  images  suivantes  ont  M  raproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compta  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattetA  de  rexemplaire  filmi,  et  en 
conformity  evec  ies  conditions  du  contrat  da 
fllmaga. 

Las  examplalras  orlglneux  dont  le  couverture  en 
pepier  est  Imprlmte  sont  fllmis  en  commenfant 
par  la  premier  plat  et  en  termlnent  solt  par  la 
dernlire  pege  qui  comporte  une  emprelnte 
d'Impresslon  ou  d'lltustratlon,  solt  par  ie  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  las  autres  exemplaires 
orlglneux  sont  fllmto  en  commandant  par  ia 
pramlire  page  qui  comporte  une  emprelnte 
d'Impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  termlnent  par 
la  darnlire  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
emprelnte. 

Un  dee  symboles  sulvents  eppereltre  sur  la 
dernMre  image  da  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — »-  signifio  "A  SUIVRE".  le 
symbole  ▼  signifle  "FIN". 


Meps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  mey  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  retios.  Those  too  lerge  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  ss 
required.  The  following  diegrems  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  certes,  plenches,  tableeux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
fitmte  i  des  taux  de  reduction  diff«rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cllcht,  11  est  fiimA  i  pertir 
de  I'engle  tupAriaur  gauche,  da  gauche  i  droite, 
et  de  heut  en  bas,  en  prenent  le  nombre 
d'Imeges  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammas  sulvents 
lllustrent  le  mtthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MICKOCOrr   >fSOUJTION  TtSI  CHART 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHAST  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


lit 


116       li^B 

-  i^ 

1.8 


l^i^l^ 


^  APPLIED  IM/1GE     In 

^SV:  ^653  £oEl   Main   Streal 

B^=  ?^5??*'"'-   **'"   '^°'^        1*S09       USA 

r.S^  <7'6}  *82  -  0300  -  Phono 

^S  (716)   288-5989- Fax 


V\/.  T.   HCRRTDGTi 


r  i 


-y 


-^- 


"   <^    C-  «-  1*  ,,. 


1 


JL^-l 


C^Jw  UtUUfvU  £«M*MA^,   K.CfK.C,. 
i4M      4wvk4kCk 


Oct.  (^«<» 


i 


I  T'^g  Oriit  of  Life 


! 


The    Orbit    of  Life 


Studies  in  Human  Experience 


By 
WILLIAM  T.  HERRIDGE,  D.  D. 

Miniiler  cfSt.  Andrew' i  Church, 
Ottawa,  Canada 


*4IF 


New  York       Chicago       Toronto 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

London        and       Edinburgh 


Copyright,  1906,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  „8  fifth  Avenut 
Ciicago:  80  W.bash  Avenue 
Toronto:  15  Richmond  Street,  W. 
London:  a,  Paternoster  Squai^ 
Eainbuigh:      100   Prince.    Street 


CONTENTS 


Perspective 

Appreciation   . 

Contrary  ^inds     . 

Love's  Thoroughfare  ■     . 

Self-Mastery    . 

In  the  Midst  of  the  Years 

The  Triumph  of  foy 

In  Defense  of  Xanthippe 

The  Shut  Door 

The  Two  Bodies :  an  Easter  Study 


9 

21 

?7 

47 

63 

79 

93 

105 

"9 

IJJ 


erspective 


tite  of  that  .Dirif  r.„  ^  "'  boundlejs  appe- 

Within  th.  Circe  .f  t'".:^^^^'  "  ''""'  *°"''- 
-Si«  Thomas  Bkown.,  if,/^,v,  ^^y; 


Perspective 

IF  a  thick  mist  hangs  over  the  sea,  and 
the  fog-horn  is  sounding  from  the  in- 
visible headland,  the  world  may  seem 
a  small  place,  and  the  circle  of  its  activities 
distinctly  limited.  But  when  the  sun  at 
last  has  driven  away  the  shadows,  and  the 
eye  roams  over  a  wide  expanse  of  earth  and 
ocean  and  sky  ;  when  the  distant  horizon, 
while  it  confines  our  vision,  suggests  the 
thought  of  the  ships  ploughing  their  track- 
less path,  and  of  other  lands  beyond,  and 
of  men  and  women  there  doing  their  work 
or  their  play,  then  the  world  comes  to  look 
like  an  almost  illimitable  realm,  and  the 
spot  on  which  we  stand  only  a  tiny  speck 
in  the  vast  creation. 

In  order  to  keep  the  cozy,  home  feeling, 
one  must  be  satisfied  with  moderate  dimen- 
sions.    It  is  not  the  most  spacious  rooms  in 
any  house  that  are  the  favourite  restinir- 
["] 


shut  the  door  .f  we  would  remain  at  ea« 
Thefi«t  glance  from  the  window.especiX 

desterhr''''"'^'"'^^''"''--'t''the 
des.re  to  be  outside,  fanned  by  the  breezes 

•cnowandtrandrThr^""?'" 
bimess  of  »!,•  ^  *^"'*  o^  the 

^^ofth.ng.urgesusonwa„l.anda 
PfS'on  for  umerancy  is  stirred  within  us 

f^"'  ^'^  '^^  ^8in  to  feel  that  the  time- 

boundar.es  are  too  narrow  for  the  st^ri 
of  human  endeavour 
And      t-,,^^^^^^^^     ^^ 

pare  for  the  greater  sequel  of  earth's  stor, 

lpe«:h-:r"^^^^^'''*"-^°- 

cnapters  which  lead  up  to  it 

[12  J 


Perspective 

A  reasonable  measure  of  .contentment  with 
immediate  surroundings  is  no  foe  to  the 
aspiration  which  desires  something  more. 
If  we  talce  a  deliberate  survey  of  things, 
counting  all  life's  pleasures  and  yet  not 
ignoring  any  of  its  pains  ;  if  we  observe  the 
steady  movement  of  those  laws  which  bring 
a  sure  reward  to  wise  thought  and  noble 
action;  and  still  more,  if  we  become  con- 
scious of  a  brooding  love  that  by  its  merci- 
ful penalties  not  less  than  by  its  fine  incen- 
tives would  fain  round  out  our  character- 
in  face  of  all  this,  any  sane  verdict  must  be 
that  the  light  of  earth  is  sweet,  and  that 
only  a  morbid  nature  would  desire  to  shut 
it  out    We  do  not  need  to  have  a  telescope 
always  at  hand,  however  useful  such  an  in- 
strument may  be  sometimes.    He  who  feels 
no  interest  in  the  waving  corn-fields,  "the 
innumerable  laughter  of  the  sea,"  the  rush 
of  the  mountain-torrent,  the  shadows  of  the 
forest,  the  bird-songs  at  dawn,  the  busy 
hive  of  human  toilers  in  the  many-peopled 
['3J 


'The     Orbit    of    Life 

town,  the  mingled  tragedy  ^uiT^med^^ 
which  make  up  the  world-drama,  is  equally 
unfit  for  earth  or  heaven.  Though  it  be 
only  for  a  season,  yet  even  here  we  are  the 
guests  of  God.  ana  should  try  to  make  our- 
selves thoroughly  deserving  of  His  gracious 
hospitality. 

One  may  do  the  present  grave  injustice 
by  an  excessive  regard  for  the  future 
Some  hymn-books,  especially  those  in- 
tended for  the  useof  children,  havetoo  nany 
hymns  about  the  world  to  con.e.  There 
may  be  times,  perhaps,  when  we  are  dis- 
posed to  sing  them  with  some  enthusiasm  • 

but  they  often  have  more  than  a  touch  of 
artificiality  and  insincerity.  A  healthy  lad 
cannot  be  ,,ersuaded  that  he  ought  to 
nmke  haste  and  die.  And  the  full-grown 
man.  .f  he  has  any  good  work  to  do.  wants 
to  have  a  chance  to  do  it.  ThomasMoore 
once  wrote  these  lines  :  — 

"  ■"«  «""■><)  i»  all  a  fleeting  show 
For  man's  illusion  given, 

['4] 


Perspective 


Th*  mllci  of  jojf,  the  Iran  of  wot, 
Deceitful  ihinc,  deceilful  flow, 

There'i  nothing  true  but  hnven." 

Now,  apart  from  the  fact  that  such  words 
contain  a  libel  on  one  province  of  the 
universe,  they  arc  not  necessarily  the  ex- 
pression of  real  piety.    The  poet's  senti- 
ments in  regard  to  the  future  world  did 
not  prevent  nim  from  taking  a  good  deal 
of  pleasure  out  of  this  present  world,  and 
depicting  its  "  illusion  "  with  considerable 
power  and  fervour  in  Lalla  Rookh.     And 
the  trouble  does  not  lie  in  being  pleased 
with    earth,    but    in    being   pleased    too 
cheaply  and   easily.    George  Eliot  says 
of  the  author  of  Night  Thoughts  that  "  his 
secular  man  believes  in  cambric  bands  and 
silk  stockings  as  characteristic  attirs  for 
'an    omaiient  of    religion  and  virtue'; 
hopes  courtiers  will  never  forget  to  copy 
Sir  Robert  Walpole ;  and  writes  begging 
letters  to  the  King's  mistress.     His  spir- 
itual   man    recognizes   no   motives   more 
C'S] 


.  p 


Th 


e     Orbit    of    Life 


familiar  than  Golgotha  and  'the  skies'; 
it  walks  in  graveyards,  or  it  soars  among 
the  stars."  This  is  a  curious  combination 
of  worldliness  and  other-worldliness  which 
soon  destroys  the  best  type  of  both.  For 
there  is  a  right  way  of  being  "worldly"  • 
and  until  one  finds  it  out,  he  can  never  do 
his  work  well,  nor  lay  it  down  with  cheer- 
ful acquiescence.  Under  the  strain  of  loss 
and  trial,  we  may  fall  for  a  time  into  an 
unnatural  mood  which  is  not  to  be  judged 
too  severely ;  yet  even  then,  grief  is  best 
hallowed,  not  by  indifference  to  things 
around  us,  but  by  enriching  earth's  scenes 
with  the  best  treasures  of  memory,  and 
with  more  vital  concern  for  the  joys  and 
sorrows  of  others. 

At  the  same  time,  human  vision  is  al- 
"/ays  overleaping  the  boundaries  of  sense, 
and  catching  some  glimpse  of 

"  Holy  mysteries 
Just  on  the  outside  of  man's  dream." 

[I6J 


.flKlfe  ^ 


Perspective 


Though  Utopia  means  "No-Place,"  every 
one  has  his  Utopia.    The  soul  is  prophetic 
of  greater  things  to  follow.     It  is  more  to 
the  purpose  to  impress  men  that  they  are 
immortal  than  that  they  are  mortal.     No 
one  seriously  denies  the  palpable  fact  that 
we  cannot  stay  here  forever.     But  what 
we  may  deny,  or  at  least  forget,  is  not  so 
much  the  transciency  of  the  body  as  the 
permanence    of    the   soul.     And   though 
just  at  present,  we  are  in  the  midst  of 
excellent  materials  for  the  building  up  of 
character,  many  earnest  thinkers  have  felt 
that    before    life  is  perfected,   evil  must 
vanish  from  its  programme,  and  our  com- 
plete enfranchisement  be   won.    Such  a 
forecaste  is  not  to  be  explained  as  the 
coinage  of   a  selfish   brain.     It  gathers 
strength  from  the  depth  and  dignity  of  our 
spiritual  being. 

But  in  order  to  bring  about  this  issue 
the  highest  tasks  will  not  bear  postpone- 
ment.    Heaven   is  a  state  as  well  as  a 
[■7] 


:f\ 


%» 


The     Orbit     of    Life 


place.  We  shall  scarcely  go  to  heaven 
when  we  die  unless,  in  some  measure,  it 
has  already  conie  to  us  while  we  ;:e  yet 
alive.  The  most  powerful  leaders  in  every 
age  in  the  march  of  human  progress  may 
be  said  to  anticipate  the  future,  because 
they  act  in  the  present  as  though  the 
future,  in  a  very  real  sense,  was  involved 
in  it.  To  flash  new  light  upon  old  sub- 
jects, to  break  the  thralldom  of  effete 
superstitions,  to  plant  the  standard  of  truth 
a  little  nearer  the  unattained  heights  of 
thi  ideal — this  is  what  the  world  needs 
most  even  when  it  seems  least  to  want  it. 
The  men  of  lofty  thought  and  large  pur- 
pose are  those  whose  names  will  remain 
when  the  brief  stir  over  some  narrow 
egotist  has  evaporated,  and  his  memory 
has  passed  into  oblivion.  Our  earthly 
tasks  are  delivered  from  all  that  is  mean 
and  sordid  only  in  so  far  as  they  are 
viewed  in  the  light  of  our  whole  moral 
nature,  our  splendid  oudook,  our  immortal 
[18] 


Perspective 

destiny.  One  of  the  marks  of  the  artist- 
mind  is  to  have  a  due  sense  of  perspective, 
and  an  appreciation  of  jiative  values. 
We  degrade  life  if  we  put  the  emphasis 
in  the  wrong  place.  Behind  the  shifting 
phenomena  of  daily  experience  is  the 
mighty  presence  of  God.  Behind  the 
play  of  material  forces  are  those  unchang- 
ing verities  which  govern  all  things.  Be- 
hind our  pleasures  and  our  pains  is  the 
ineradicable  essence  that  makes  the  man. 
The  intimations  of  immortality  which  seem 
to  be  lodged  in  our  nature  are  reenforced 
by  every  vjflort  towards  moral  achieve- 
ment. And  therefore,  though  this  realm 
does  not  mean  less,  the  after-realm  has  to 
mean  more. 


X  A  man's  reach  should  exceed  his  grasp, 
Or  what's  a  heaven  for  ?  " 


That  is  the  sphere  of  jjerfect  consumma- 
tion ;  and  all  ihat  precedes  it,  the  manifold 
service,  the  varied  discipline,  the  rich  sug- 
[•9] 


J^e     Orbit 

gestiveness  of  thiTfinTd^ridTiT^;^ 
them  rightly,  not  only  prepare  us  to  reap 
the  best  rewards  of  the  present,  but  pre- 
pare us  also,  when  the  proper  time  comes, 
to  step  out  of  our  lodging-house,  and  enter 
upon  the  still  more  abundant  and  fruitful 
tasks  of  home. 


--•■(  ,; 


[20] 


ise 
e- 

!S, 

er 


A  pp 


rectatton 


■•"-i.able,   and    is    IL^  'I"  '°""=  ''=«-«•  -'">«  to  be 
half-bred  minds  may  desnise  ,•""'■  "'""K''  quick  and 

-\VA,.TK„,UGE„or:Z,V,.„^,,,„^,„ 
"  Je  prend  tout  doucement  Us  1,^ 

J;acco„.„me  mo„  ameTsl-^tr^rr'"  ""'' 
Bt  je  crois  qu'i  la  cour  H.  ~a  .  ' 


Appreciation 


MR.  LOWELL,  in  an  address  on 
Democracy,  quotes  a  saying  of 
Theodore  P^irktr  that  "Democ- 
racy meant  not  'I'm  as  good  as  you  are,' 
but  'You're  as  good  as  I  am,'  "  and  adds 
that  this  is  "a  conception  which,  could  it 
be  made  actual  and  practical,  would  easily 
solve  all  the  riddles  that  the  old  Sphinx  of 
political  and  social  economy  who  sits  by 
the  roadside  has  been  proposing  to  man- 
kind from  the  beginning."    This  may  be 
regarded,  perhaps,  as  too  sanguine  a  judg- 
ment on  the  eflfect  of  the  applied  aphorism  ; 
but,   at    all    e       *s,   some    advantage   is 
gained  by  the  survey  of  life  from  a  stand- 
point which  is   not  dominantly  personal. 
Whether  the  other  man  is  bracketed  equal 
or  unequal— and   if  men  were  all  equal 
they  would  cease  to  be  men— there  will  be 
[23] 


m 

P 


(I 

I' 


a  much   better  chan^^^T^JiJ^tSg 
h.m  and  meeting  his  needs  than  as  though 

the  fragment  called  "I-  were  made  the 
pivot  of  the  universe. 

It  is  a  fine  thing  to  unite  a  well-rounded, 
thoughtful  experience,  accustomed  to  at- 
tack hard  problems  and  to  discharge  diffi- 
cult tasks  with  the  juvenile  freshness  which 
finds  perpetual  charm  in  the  worid's  many- 
sided  phenomena.  There  is  no  danger 
then  of  falling  into  the  tedium  of  a  dull 
monotony,  for  even  the  commonplaces  of 
human  mtercourse  will  bring  some  new 

suggestiveness,andtheunderiyingfascina. 
tion  of  hfe  keep  emerging  into  clearer  view 
so  that  the  worn  face  is  transfigured,  and 
the  dull  eyes  shine  with  a  st^nge  lustre, 
and  the  weary,  humdrum,  disenchanted  folk 
show  some  traces  of  having  also  dwelt  in 
Arcadia. 

It  makes  all  the  difference  what  kind  of 
a  mood  is  cultivated  in  the  study  .f  those 
around  us.    As  a  rule,  the  deeper  we  pene- 

[24] 


^'mMIl^ 


App 


rectatton 


trate  into  human  nature,  provided  there  is 
a  spirit  of  sympathetic  interest  in  our  re- 
search, the  more  winsome  and  hopeful  it 
will  seem  in  every  way. 

"  Earth  was  not  earth  before  her  una  appeared, 
Nor  Beauty  Beauty  ere  young  Love  was  born." 

No  doubt  there  may  be  some  unpleasant 
discoveries  of  meanness  that  has  tried  to 
hide  behind  the  mask  of  respectability,  and 
obstinate  malice  which  refuses  to  be  ap- 
peased, and  lyi:g  slander  whose  snake- 
like tv  listings  bafHe  detection,  and  coarse 
lusts  which,  though  often  tricked  out  in 
specious  disguise,  work  their  hideous  ruin. 
If  one  were  to  look  exclusively  on  the 
dark  background  of  life's  picture,  any 
panegyric  on  mankind  might  well  seem  a 
mocking  irony. 

Some  who  claim  to  know  the  world 
have  reached  an  attitude  of  almost  uni- 
versal distrust  in  regard  to  it.     But  in- 
stead of  knowing  it  too  well,  the  truth  is 
[25] 


'1  ' 


11 


i  i: 


The 

They  n^ay  have  seen  its  wor.t  side;  but 
have  they  seen  its  best,  the  flashes  of  pure 

T:  Ik'  "^T'  ^"""'P  °^  '"'^"^'-•'"al  reah-- 
fe  .  the  nch  depths  of  n,oral  insight,  the 

pa. ent  waiting  for  hope  deferred,  the  quie 

self-sacnfice  which  sounds  no  trumpet  be- 

ore.t.  the  gallant  struggle  against  odds 
that  seem  overwhelming,  the  kindly  word 

and  the  belpful  deed  which  pierce  through 

huttered  windows  like  a  ray  of  light  from 

heaven?    The    Realist    cannot  fLly  be 

sa.d  to  earn  that  name  if  he  is  content  to 

wallow  m  muddy  waters  when,  higher  up 
the  St    am  runs  pure. 

It  is  a  common   habit  to  undervalue 

what  .s  near  and  to  rhapsodize  over  what 

green.  Viewed  in  perspective,  there  is 
no  opportunity  to  examine  with  minute 
care  the  patches  of  dry  grass  or  the  clumps 
of  Pnckiy  thistles.  But  illusions  seem  im- 
possible  with  regard  to  the  ground  we  are 

[26] 


i  51 


m'f 


A  p  p  re  c  ia  t  i  0  n 

treading  every  day.  Its  defects,  a:  least, 
will  be  easily  discovered,  even  though 
some  of  its  merits  escape  notice.  Who 
thinks  of  hunting  for  jewels  in  the  beaten 
thoroughfares,  or  idealizing  the  life  at 
our  doors  ?  And,  as  a  consequence,  its 
brighter  hemisphere  often  falls  into  eclipse 
through  the  intervening  of  the  opaque 
body  of  preconceived  opinion.  Our 
heroes  and  heroines  are  nearly  all  a  long 
way  off,  or  they  pay  us  only  a  hurried 
visit  on  the  dramatic  stage  or  in  the  chap- 
ters of  some  novel ;  while,  perhaps,  the 
people  we  run  against  on  the  street  stir  no 
imagination  at  all. 

This  is  especially  so  when  we  are  ob- 
serving "  the  average  man."  Indeed,  it  is 
quite  possible  to  be  as  skeptical  about  his 
very  existence  as  Betsey  Prig  was  in  re- 
gard to  Mrs.  Harris,  when  at  a  memorable 
tea-party  she  said,  "  I  don't  believe  there's 
no  sich  person  "  ;  though  if  we  looked  in 
the  mirror,  most  of  us  would  see  him.     It 

[27] 


m 


r/j, 


Orhit     of    Life 


"true  that  no  two  human  beings  are  alike 
in  everyth,nK.  difference,  in  f,if,s  j^row 
ou    o    that  individuality  which  even  the 

mulfphcafon  of  machines  cannot  wholly 
destroy,  and  seem  to  prove  that  there  is 

some  place  in  the  world  for  each  one  and 
some  specific  work  to  do.     And  yet.  large 

numbers  of  people  share  pretty  much  the 
same  v,ews  on  a  variety  of  subjects,  and 
are  not  conspicuous  for  outstanding  fea- 
tures of  any  kind.     This  preponderance  of 

med.ocnty  tends  to  make  it  unpicturesque, 
and  to  deprive  ,t  of  fascinating  power.    To 

the  casual  observer,  at  least,  "the  average 
tnan'Mookslikeoneofa  row  of  houses  and 
has  nothmg  distinctive  in  his  pattern  that 
challenges  attention.     He  is  neither  Dives 

nor  Lazarus,  neither  a  genius  nor  a  dolt- 
neuher  of  the  salt  of  the  earth,  nor  yet' 
an  outcast  from  reputable  assemblages- 
neither  big  enough  to  excite  wonder,  nor' 
small  enough  to  e..cite  pity.  If  he  receives 
no   kicks,  he   receives   no   ha'pence.     He 

[28] 


■Appreciation 


seems  so  hopelessly  conventional  that  those 
in  search  of  objects  upon  which  enthusiasm 
can  he  lavished  are  often  inclined  to  pass 
him  by. 

The  kings  of  men  cannot  be  ifpiorpd, 
and  ought  not  to  be.  Even  the  imperfect 
appreciation  of  those  w>-o  have  raist-d 
themselves  above  the  multitude  in  thought 
and  action  is  educational,  and  the  whole 
t"ne  of  life  would  soon  degenerate  without 
it.  The  profound  teacher,  the  ardent 
patriot,  the  tuneful  poet  deservedly  find 
many  to  admire  them;  and  after  their 
praises  have  been  sung  by  the  great  world, 
their  native  hamlet  is  also  stirred  to  a  tardy 
delig  It  ,hich  finds  expression,  perhaps,  in 
a  posthumous  monument. 

Nor  is  it  difificult  to  inspire  some  interest 
in  the  tag-ends  of  the  social  fabric.  Ex- 
tremes converge  in  a  festival  for  those  out 
at  elbows.  From  one  point  of  view,  the 
event  might  make  a  paragraph  in  the  col- 
umns of  a  fashionable  newspaper,  for  well- 
[29] 


\i 


'% 


k 


The     Or  hit     of    Life 


groomed  men  and  daintily-dressed  women 
are  there  to  fill  the  mouths  of  the  hungry. 
Eist  End  and  West  End  are  met  together  ; 
Aristocracy  and  Democracy  have  kissed 
each  other.  So  far  from  being  left  alone, 
"the  horny-handed  son  of  toil"  has  at 
times  such  an  extraordinary  collection  of 
friends  that  he  is  liable  to  be  confused,  and 
scarcely  knows  from  which  ones  he  had 
better  pray  to  be  delivered. 

No  generous  mind  would  wish  to  dis- 
courage any  sincere  desire  to  help  the  poor 
and  unfortunate.    Though  the  task  of  the 
modern  Good  Samaritan  has  become  ex- 
tremely complicated  in  many  cases,  and 
calls  for  a  sound  intelligence  as  well  as  a 
sympathetic  heart  in  order  to  serve  and 
yet  not  demoralize  the  man  who  har  fallen 
among  thieves,  it  is  a  hopeful  sign  that  a 
growing  number  recognize  the  responsi- 
bility, and  strive  to  meet  it  in  a   broad, 
human    way   without    assuming    airs    of 
ostentation    or   of    patronage.     But    why 
[30] 


App 


r  e  c  t  a  t  i  0  n 


should  the  man  who  has  a  whole  coat  on 
his  back  and  a  few  dollars  in  his  pocket 
fail  to  be  taken  just  as  seriously?    He 
may  be  more  like  ourselves  ;   but  he,  too, 
has  his  joys  and  sorrows,  his  needs  and 
longings,  his  sacred  memories,  and,  per- 
haps, his  "august  anticipations  of  a  dim 
splendour  ever  on  before."     He  will  not 
startle  us  by  his  brilliant  gifts,  nor  make 
us  weep  because  of  his  lack  of  bread  and 
butter.    Yet,  though  his  work  seems  un- 
heroic,  may  he  not  have  something  of  the 
hero-spirit  in  him?    Why  should  not  the 
artist  paint  his  picture,  and  the  poet  weave 
his  fortunes  into  verse,  and  the  lover  of  his 
kind  include  him  in  the  circle  of  a  wide- 
sweeping  philanthropy?    It  would  be  ab- 
surd to  confine  the  nobler  charities  of  life 
to  those  above  or  beneath  us,  and  to  treat 
our  comrades  in  a  half-flippant  and  super- 
ficial spirit  except  when  some  crisis  of  trial 
sei  ned  almost  to  necessitate  a  more  pro- 
found V    w  of  them. 

[3M 


{ 


I 


ip 


!ti 


HM 


The     Orbit 


■ 


1**1 

'•I 


of    Life 


In  the  opening  paragraph  of  Heroes  and 
Hero-lVorship  Carlyle  says,  "As  I  take  it, 
the  history  of  what  man  has  accomplished 
in  this  world  is  at  bottom  the  history  of  the 
Great  Men  who  have  worked  here."     But 
while  the  historic  Muse  connects  certain 
names  with  remarkable  military  triumphs, 
or  with  a  revival  of  learning,  or  with  a 
moral  reformation  that  turns  things  upside 
down,   such    herculean   achievements    ,s 
these    have   been  made  possible  to  the 
single  arm  only  when  its  strength  was  re- 
cruited by  loyal  followers  who  leave  behind 
no  materials  for  a  biography.    There  were 
present  the  gigantic  figures  that  seem  to 
fill  the  stage,  "and  others"  who  did  not 
think  it  an  impertinerce  to  help  the  helpers 
as  much   as  they  could.     Epoch-making 
deeds  are  not  for  every  day ;  but  everyday 
the  routine  of  the  world's  work  goes  on, 
and  is  being  done  in  a  large  measure  by 
an  anonymous  multitude.     It  means  more 
to  human  progress  that  the  mediocre  man 
[32] 


appreciation 


should  bethewholeof  himself  ratherthan  the 
pale  fragment  of  some  greater  personality 
When  little  Alice  told  her  adventures  in 
Wonderland  to  her  older  sister,  "  she  sat  on 
with  closed  eyes,  and  half  believed  herself 
m  Wonderland,  though  she^knew  she  had 
only  to  open  them  again  and  everything 
would  change  to  dull  reality."     But  there 
is  a  Wonderland  always  about  us  which  we 
shall    see  when  our  eyes  are  open  wide 
enough,  a  romance  of  the  familiar  that 
ought  to  stir  both  brain  and  heart.    And 
though  the  glowing  vision  which  throws 
over  ordinary  scenes  a  spell  of  oerpetual 
enchantment    may    be    regarded,    in    its 
highest  form,  as  the  exclusive  gift  of  genius 
every  one  must  try  to  cultivate  some  of  this 
power,  or  else  the  poetry  of  life  will  soon 
vanish,  and  even  its  prose  become  of  the 
flattest  order.    True  appreciation  is  not  a 
mere    intellectual    talent    but  a  spiritual 
grace,  and  the  utmost  cleverness  does  not 
produce  it  apart  from  the  revealing  insight 


'If' 


The     Orbit    of    Life 


of    sympathy.     An    ounce    of    practical 
beneficence  to  some  one  near  at  fiand  is 
worth  more,  to  the  giver  as  well  as  the  re- 
ceiver, than  a  pound  of  vague,  theoretic 
sentiment  towards  those  who  are  faraway. 
Poor  Peepy  Jellaby,  recording  the  progress 
of   his  fall  down-stairs  by  ominous  raps, 
discredits    the   maternal   anxiety  for  the 
natives  of  Borrioboola-Gha  on  the  left  bank 
of  the  Niger.     If  the  edges  of  love  are 
frayed  by  usage  among  accustomed  scenes, 
is  it  probable  that  any  great  interest  will  be 
felt  in  the  woes  of  the  Antipodes  ? 

There  may  be  no  undiscovered  prophets 
dwelling  beside  us,  no  "  mute,  inglorious 
Milton,"  no  embryonic  heroes  destined  for 
world-wide  renown.  But  are  there  not 
some,  at  least,  whom  we  have  never  quite 
understood,  to  whom  we  have  done  scant 
justice,  whose  faithful  toil  we  have  accepted 
as  a  matter  of  course,  but  whose  slightest 
fault,  perhaps,  has  been  visited  with  pitiless 
condemnation?  Sometimes  the  day  comes 
[34] 


A  pp 


rectation 


when  we  feel  this.  Under  Death's  smooth- 
ing touch,  defects  are  forgotten,  and  all  the 
patient,  unselfish  ministry  comes  back  to 
remembrance  with  a  pathetic  vividness, 
till  our  heart  aches  with  a  vain  regret,  and 
our  eyes  are  filled  with  unavailing  tears. 

To  look  into  the  interior  of  a  single 
human  soul  and  learn  something  of  its  in- 
trinsic value  is  the  first  step  towards  solv- 
ing the  vast  problem  of  the  world's  need, 
and  reading  the  secret  of  that  Divine  com- 
passion which,  through  the  ages,  seems  to 
keep  an  unwearied  optimism  in  spite  of 
everything.      A     good    deal    of   despair 
springs  out  of  nothing  else  than  pure  lone- 
liness.    There  are  stem-faced,   sad-eyed 
men  and  women  walking  our  streets  every 
day  who  might  be  likened  to  a  noble  organ 
locked  up,  and  a  little  out  of  tune;  and 
they  wait  for  some  one  who  knows  how  to 
coax  forth  the  silent  music.     And  though 
at  times  this  desire  may  assume  morbid  or 
even  self-debasing  forms-a  tyranny  of  the 
[35  J 


« 'I'li 


■||J 


1'! 

5 


The     Orbit 


of    Life 


...i 


weak  which  is  almost  as  much  to  be  re- 
sented as  the  tyranny  of  the  strong-yet  it 

must  never  be  thought  that  the  contents  of 
anyhfe  are  exhausted  until  more  or  less 
d^stmct    traces    appear    upon   it  of  that 
ongmal  charm  which  marks  God's  handi- 
^^•ork.     In  spite  of  many  faults,  there  is  al- 
ways some  attraction  about  the  real  self 
and  social  intercourse  is  a  poor  thing  f  it 
does  not  help  to  develop  it.     No  one  will 
ever  show  what  he  is  or  what  he  can  be  if 
hemmed    in  by  constat    Usparagement ; 

for  souls  aiehke  sensitive  plants  that  close 
up  qmcUyin  an  uncongenial  atmosphere 
But  u  ,s  a  chivalrous  ambition  to  revive 
he,r  hope,  to  bring  out  their  strength  and 
ovehness,  to  expand  the  wings  of  Psyche 
hat  she  may  soar  above  earth's  dust  and 
turmozl.    And  .his  task  begins,  not  in  some 
distant  region,  but  among  those  whom, 
though  we  think  we  know  them  best  of  all 
may  yet  possess  an  unexplored  remainder.' 
full  of  fine  surprises,  rich  in  varied  treasure 
[3<5J 


;lii%_ 


Contrary     Winds 


'*t,-l 


;ii 


■  \- 

'I  'i^ 


After  long  s„™„,  ^^^^^^  ^^ 

TT-e  sun  a(  las.  h«  joyous  face  do.h  clear: 

So  when  as  fortune  all  her  spite  has  shown 
Some  blissful  hours  at  k.i  m,,..  '"""'"• 
Pl«  .1,     ij    ^  '  ""*'  "«ds  appear 

El«  should  afflicted  wights  oftimes  des^L  " 

-Sp<N81«:  7-4,/i,w,e„^. 


Contrary   fTinds 


THE  most  significant  things,  even 
about  Nature,  are  those  which  we 
do  not  see  at  all.     We  looic  into 
the  face  of  the  world's  varied  beauty,  and 
our  eye  rejoices  in  the  white  flower  the 
ruddy  fruit,  the  deep  blue  of  the  waters 
the  mingled  gold  and  gray  of  the  autumn 
woods.     But  the  highest  Nature-stud,   is 
found  in  the  life  behind  these,  the  primal 
cause  of  all  phenomena;  and  life  itself 
eludes  complete  examination.     Its  lovely 
many-coloured  robe  trails  over  the  whole 
earth,  but  a  veil  hides  its  countenance  from 
view. 

We  hear  the  wind  whisUing  down  the 

■  chimney,  or  murmuring  through  the  pines 

or  sighing  by  the  seashore,  or  raging  in 

some  dreadful  hurricane.     But  we  mnnot 

see  the  wind.     It  is  the  emblem  of  those 

r  39  ] 


fe 


m 


Th  e     0  rbit     of    Life 

mysterious  and  potent  forces  which  con^ 
tinuaily  play  upon  human  life.     The  old 
Greeks  turned  the  winds  into  divinities,  and 
Hebrew  thought  pictured  "the  prince  of 
the    power  of    the    air."     It    seemed  as 
though  tlie  soft  breeze  must  have  a  kindly 
heart,  and  Boreas  a  frigid  on-,  and  the 
rough  east  wind  some  demon  i,  it.     Our 
nature  is  too  large  to  be  controlled  simply 
by  what  we  can   touch   and  handle.     It 
needs  also  the  spirit  forces  wi.icl,  come 
from   far,  and  awe  us  by  their  majesty. 
Better  a  contrary  wind  than  none  at  all ; 
and  the  wind  is  sure  to  be  contrary  some-' 
times,  no  matter  in  what  direction  we  are 
going.    So  wide  is  the  sea  of  life,  that 
while  in  some  parts  of  it  fair  weather  may 
prevail  as  a  general  rule,  yet  even  in  the 
sunniest  latitudes  sudden  storms  arise,  and 
seem  the  more  violent  in  contrast  with  the 
smooth  sailing  which  has  preceded  them. 
Envy  would  be  much  less  common  than  it 
now  is  if  we  were  able  to  read  every  page 
[40] 


Contrary    Winds 


of  the  log-book  locked  away  in  the  chart- 
house  of  the  soul.  Almost  anything  may 
happen  when  a  vessel  once  gets  outside 
the  sheltered  harbour. 

No    life    has   ever   developed   into   the 
largest  proportions  without  some  contrary 
winds  beating  upon  it. .  If  our  chief  con- 
cern here  were  to  have  "  a  good  time  "  ;  if 
selfishness  were  man's  crowning  excellence 
instead  of  his  most  hideous  deformity  ;  if 
there  were  no  fine  tasks  to  achieve,  no 
lofty  truths  to  bo  made  known,  no  vital 
sympathy  to  be  expended  upon  the  need 
of  others,  then  it  might  do  to  have  the 
wind  always  at  our  back.     But  who  would 
wish  to  escape  the  discipline  by  which  his 
moral  nature  gains  its  elevation  for  the 
sake  of  keeping  a  luxurious  indolence  ? 

"  Who  would  lose, 
Though  full  of  pain,  this  intellectual  being?" 

In  the  thick  of  stress  and  peril  the  heroism 

of  the  soul  is  matured.     Then  it  is  that  we 

are  trained  in  patience,  fired  with  energy, 

[4»  ] 


H 


m 


•■iiiC»;-*<;- 


,„„fd 


t! 


TAe     Orbit    of    Life 

roused  to  beneficent  deeds  towards  those 
who,  perhaps,  are  lashed  helpless  to  the 
mast,  while  we  are  free  to  fight  the  storm. 
Though  we  may  not  like  it,  the  rebuff  of  a 
contrary  wind  is  often  the  best  thing  that 
could  happen  to  us.  Heaven  would  be  an 
uninteresting  realm,  and,  in  some  respects, 
a  dangerous  one  if  we  were  not  educated 
for  it  by  means  of  trials  which  bring  out 
nobility  of  character.  Only  after  the  fric- 
tions of  time  is  it  safe  to  promise  a  friction- 
less  eternity. 

And  yet,  the  contrary  wind  may  often  be 
accentuated  by  a  contrary  spirit  in  our- 
selves.   Any  sailor    prefers    a  favouring 
breeze ;  but  if  he  is  of  the  right  sort,  he 
will  yoke  adverse  forces  to  his  resolute 
will,  and  make  what  headway  he  can  even 
against    the   storm.    There  is  no  virtue 
bound  up  of  necessity  in  the  hardships  of 
life.    All  depends  upon  the  way  in  which 
we  view  them.     We  may  manufacture  an 
east  wind  out  of  almost  anything  and  revel 
[42] 


Contrary    Winds 

in  a  luxury  of  gratuitous  wretchedness,  yet 
be  fi,....er  from  truly  noble  living  than 
those  upon  whom  the  sun  seems  to  shine 
all  the  time.  The  very  same  cireumstanees 
affect  different  persons  in  wholly  differ<'nt 
ways.  While  this  man  delights  in  a  difficult 
task,  and  keys  up  his  nature  to  the  utmost 
requirements  of  the  situation,  that  man 
folds  his  hands  in  absolute  despair.  Some 
patiently  endure  the  fret  of  sickness,  and 
learn  the  rich  lessons  which  it  brings ; 
others  keep  chafing  against  it,  and  resume 
customary  duties  neither  wiser  nor  better 
for  the  interruption  of  them.  There  are 
those  who,  after  the  blow  which  has  shat- 
tered their  hopes  and  well  nigh  broken 
their  heart,  still  find  that  a  sweet,  consol- 
ing peace  creeps  in  like  sunshine  through 
the  thick  darkness  of  grief ;  and  there  are 
those  who  curse  a  cruel  fate,  and  discern 
no  large  and  kindly  master-hand  at  work 
amid  the  tangled  threads  of  human  his- 
tory. 

£43) 


•^i 


I- 


\i 


\k 


The    Orbit    of    Life 


We  shall  not  have  much  wind  of  any 
kind  until  we  launch  out  into  the  deep. 
The  narrow,  apathetic,  unadventurous  life 
escapes  a  good  deal  of  buffeting.      But 
if  its  pains  are  lessened,  so  also  are  its 
pleasures.    It  is  a  stranger  to  the  rich 
moral  discipline  that  is  perf'=ted  through 
suffering,  and  to  the  fresh  hope  that  may 
be  awakened  under  the  magic  touch  of 
human  fellowship.     The  splendid  exhilara- 
tion of   noble  work  in  the  world  never 
visits  it  at  all ;  and  if,  by  closing  the  blinds 
m  the  soul's  dwelling-house,  it  does  not 
see  the  ominous  clouds,  neither  does  it  see 
the   rainbow  behind  them.      The  waves 
may  be  said  to  pay  the  mariner  a  compli- 
ment when  they  enter  into  a  rough  duel 
with  him.    A  weakling  would  be  no  op- 
ponent, but  only  a  victim.     Strong  trials 
are  reserved  for  strong  men,  and  the  more 
their  violence  is  concentrated,  the  more 
they  bring  forth  the  hidden  treasures  of 
bravery  and    resourcefulness.     We   must 
[44] 


Contrary    Winds 

not  underestimate  the  possible  powers  of 
our  own  nature,   still    less  that  patient. 
Divine  care  which,  in  spite  of  life's  per- 
plexities,  is    at  the  heart  of  the  world. 
Those  who  most  impress  us  with  their 
fortitude  in  the  midst  of  trial,  and  their 
ability  to  serve  others  in  a  really  inspiring 
way,  would  be  the  first  to  acknowledge 
that  a  great  Presence  behind  themselves, 
yet    somehow    working  in  them,   is  the 
secret  of  their  strength  and  hopefulness. 
At  first  sight  we  may  hesitate  to  couple 
the  thought  of  care  with  God,  and  may 
even  feel  a  sense  of  loneliness  because  of 
our  very  reverence  for  Him.     It  might 
well  seem  that  if  the  anxious  care  that  so 
often  rends  us  asunder  only  found  a  larger 
illustration  in  the  bosom  of  the  Eternal, 
then,  though  we  assumed  His  desire  to 
help  us,  we  could  never  expect  to  find 
any  permanent  release  from  our  doubt 
and  pain  and  sin.     But  the  "care"   of 
God  is  of  a  different  quality  from  much  of 


The     Orbit     of    Life 

ours.     He  cares  for  us  with  a  care  imply- 
ing constant  and  tender  solicitude,  yet 
tranquil  and  serene  in  the  infinite  light 
which  sees  all  things,  and  the  infinite  love 
which  does  all  things  well.     And  thus  His 
care  becomes  the  destroyer  of  our  care 
when  they  intermingle;  and  so  far  from 
lowering  our  conception  of  Him,  reveals 
in  the  most  beautiful  form  the  wondrous 
wealth  of  His  Fatherhood.     For  while  our 
care  is  like  the  angry  wind  that  lashes  the 
ocean  into  tempestuous  fury,  and  sends  its 
crested  billows  in  swift  assault  upon  the 
shore,  His  care  is  like  the  brooding  dove 
which,  at  the  beginning,  moved  over  the 
face  of  the  chaotic  waters ;  or  like  the  un- 
rufi9ed  Voice  which,  when  the  surf  was 
tossing     high     on    Galilee,    quelled    the 
mariners'    fear    as    it  cried,   "Peace,   be 
still  I " 


[46] 


W^i  -Jim 


Love's     Thoroughfare 


"  In  strange  and  unlooL.d-for  ways  the  mission  of  sacri- 
fice and  love  fulfils  itself,  and  living  in  the  fnll  light  of  its 
inflaence,  we  can  never  realize  the  blessing  we  have  de- 
nved,  the  changed  aspect  of  the  race  »e  have  inherited, 
from  the  cross  of  Christ." 

—J.  H.  Shorthouse:  Tie  LMe  Scluolmesler  Atari. 

"  Sure  majrbe  ye've  heard  the  red-breast 
Singin'  his  lone  jn  a  thorn, 
Mindin'  himself  o'  the  dear  days  lost. 

Brave  wid  his  heart  forlorn. 
The  time  is  in  dark  November, 
And  no  spring  hopes  has  he : 
'  Remember,'  he  sings,  •  Remember  I  ■ 
Ay,  tion'i  the  wee  bird  for  me." 
— MoiRA  O'NiiLL  i  S<mg,  0/  the  Glen,  of  Antrim. 


Loves  Thoroughfare 

A  CERTAIN  capacity  for  loving  is 
innate  in  eveiy  one,  and  no  matter 
how  obscured  or  perverted,  it  will 
never  be  wholly  destroyed  unless  man  is 
dehumanized.    We  are  so  made  that  we 
must    have    some    objects    round  which 
thought  and  feelir       an  in'.rtwine;  and 
nobody  is  to  be  envied  who  tries  to  culti- 
vate that  apathetic  indifference  whinh  re- 
duces such  a  desire  to  a  minimum.    Yet 
It  is  well  to  know  when  to  let  our  hearts 
have  free  play.    A  great  deal  of  the  pathos 
and  tragedy  of  life  is  occasioned  by  incon- 
siderate haste  in  the  exercise  of  the  emo- 
tions.   Unsuspecting  natures  of  the  im- 
pulsively generous  order  are  apt  to  be 
prodigal  of  their  confidence,  and  scarcely 
realize  that  they  are  like  lambs  in  the 
midst  of  wolves  until  the  wolves  have  de- 
voured   them.     Love    is    too  precious  a 
[49  J 


r 


■h\ 


^ 


Th 


e     Orbit    of    Life 


thing  to  be  thrown  about  promiscuously. 
It  must  go  with  reason  and  conscience  if 
its  service  is  not  to  become  abortive. 
However  much  one  may  wish  to  reveal 
his  whole  self,  under  certain  circumstances 
restraint  is  almost  forced  upon  him.  No 
doubt  it  is  our  own  fault  in  many  cases 
that  we  do  not  love  our  fellows  as  we 
should ;  but  sometimes  it  is  their  fault  that 
the  love  which  is  ready  to  be  bestowed, 
knocks  at  their  door  in  vain.  Though 
love  tries  to  be  impartial,  it  has  to  seem 
partial  on  account  of  different  attitudes  in 
the  recipients  of  it 

And  yet,  if  our  interest  is  confined  only 
to  those  whose  similarity  of  tastes  promises 
a  congenial  response,  it  will  be  extremely 
circumscribed.  Large  numbers  of  people 
will  then  be  quite  outside  the  pale  of  our 
sympathetic  regard,  and  we  in  turn  shall 
be  outside  theirs.  A  man  may  have  a  pas- 
sion for  the  most  thoughtful  literature ;  but 
many  show  no  leaning  towards  tough  in- 
[50] 


Love's    Thoroughfare 

tellectual  exercise,  and  would  no  more  un- 
derstand his  raptures  over  some  master- 
piece than  they  would  understand  a  strange 
language.  Or  he  may  be  thrilled  by  the 
immortal  productions  of  the  uncrowned 
kings  of  harmony  ;  but  good  work  is  being 
done  in  the  world  by  some  who  while  not 
averse,  perhaps,  to  the  aitchy  air  of  a  comic 
opera,  would  be  bored  by  a  Fugue  of  Bach 
or  an  Oratorio  of  Handel  or  a  Symphony 
of  Beethoven,  and  inclined  to  meet  his 
fervour  with  an  incredulous  sneer.  Life  is 
so  many-sided,  and  has  such  a  variety  of 
realms  in  which  to  move,  that  even  with 
the  best  intentions  and  the  largest  powers, 
we  can  hope  to  explore  only  a  few  of  them. 
And  though  the  laws  which  determine  the 
measure  of  friendliness  between  human 
souls  are  by  no  means  easy  to  analyze,  if 
we  admit  no  other  law  than  that  of  "  elec 
tive  affinity,"  and  shut  out  every  one  who  is 
not  included  under  it,  we  may  reach  in  the 
end  the  disdain  of  the  Roman  poet  who 
[SI] 


U 


n 


_The     Orbit    of    Life 

said,  "I  loathe  the  common  herd,  and  keep 
them  at  a  distance." 

Of  course,  those  who  share  our  enthu- 
siasms, and  agree  with  our  general  concep- 
tions   of  what    is  meant   by  living  will 
naturally  appeal  to  us  more  than  those  who 
do  not     While    the     Christian    religion 
teaches  us  to  love  all  men,  including  our 
foes,  it  does  not  make  its  doctrine  impos- 
sible of  practice  by  expecting  love  to  be 
parcelled  out  everywhere  in  equal  quanti- 
ties.    Even  Jesus  had  His  favourites,  the 
chosen  Three  among  the  Twelve ;  and  that 
quiet  home  at  Bethany  was  the  one  place 
where  He  could  rest  at  ease.    There  are 
some  scenes  in  which  His  soul  is  half  hid- 
den, simply  because  it  has  to  be ;  but  the 
significant  fact  is  that  His  love  for  those 
nearest  to  Him  in  thought  and  feeling  did 
not  seem  to  impair  His  love  for  those  who 
were  dull  and  unappreciative  and  openly 
hostile,  though  He  could  not  always  show 
the  full  radiance  of  it.     His  patience  with 
[52] 


Love's    T hor oug hf ar e 

the  disciples'  stupid  blunders  was  most 
wonderful,  and  His  last  prayer  was  for  the 
implacable  mob  which  had  hounded  Him 
on  to  Calvary.  There  is  ample  reason  for 
cultivating  those  special  intimacies  which 
are  a  mutual  stimulus ;  but  at  the  same  time 
we  should  do  what  we  can  to  keep  the  way 
open  for  wholesome  and  kindly  relation- 
ships in  every  quarter,  that  even  enemies 
may  have  the  chance,  at  least,  to  become 
friends,  and  icebergs  to  be  melted  in  the 
Gulf  Stream  of  the  heart  It  is  suggestive 
to  observe  how  persons  are  often  drawn  to- 
gether, in  spite  of  the  absence  of  common 
interests,  by  some  mysterious  bond  which  is 
far  deeper.  We  may  learn  from  mistakes 
in  the  display  of  feeling ;  but  we  shall  never 
be  made  wise  by  callousness.  If  the  best 
that  is  in  us  does  not  seem  to  be  wanted, 
still  it  is  the  best ;  and  it  is  hard  to  imagine 
any  circumstances  under  which  one  can  be 
absolutely  sure  that  it  has  spent  its  strength 
for  nought. 

[53] 


: 


iiiiiii 


^#Jj2*^ 


""*"■""' 


L 


•^itt 


T^he    Orbit    of    Lift 

We  are  sometimes  half  afraid  of  love,  be. 
cause  we  have  not  quite  learned  itsesLen- 
tial  sacredness.     Though  love  is  not  blind, 
the  human  race  has  been  so  blind  to  love 
that  a  long  course  of  training  was  required 
before  it  so  much  as  began  to  apprehend  the 
great  motive  force  which  comes  from  Him 
who,  as  Goldsmith  beautifully  expressed 
it,  "  loved  us  into  being."    Such  love  as  the 
old  paganism  had.  w.^s.  for  the  most  part, 
only  a  phase  of  selfishness,  and  often  de- 
generated    into    brutal    lust      And   even 
among  those  nobler  spirits  who  refused  to 
drift  into  the  general  current  of  pollution, 
love  had  become  almost  a  hopeless  affair, 
and  after  a  series  of  disenchantments.  a 
school  of  cynicism  arose  which  boasted  that 
It  cared  for  no  one.     The  world  had  yet  to 
understand  that  love  is  neither  a  narrow 
passion  which  centres  in  self  alore,  nor  a 
vam    expenditure    lavished   upon   others. 
There  cannot  be  too  much  love,  provided 
it  is    love    indeed,   and    not  its  danger- 
t  S4  ] 


mrn^^^Mw 


ous  travesty.  The  poet-painter,  William 
Blake,  hears  two  voices  from  the  clod  and 
the  pebble.     The  one  sing^, 

"  Love  Kckcih  not  iuelf  to  pluK, 
Nor  for  ilKir  hath  any  care, 
But  Tor  another  givo  iti  eaie, 
And  builds  a  heaven  in  hell's  desptir." 

The  other  singfs, 

"  Love  seeketh  only  self  to  please, 
To  bind  another  to  its  delight, 
Joys  in  another's  loss  of  ease. 
And  builds  a  hell  in  heaven's  despite." 

No  one  who  consults  the  noblest  instincts 
of  his  own  nature  can  doubt  for  a  moment 
from  which  side  the  true  voice  comes. 
Love  must  have  a  high  ethical  quality  as 
well  as  a  strong  passion  if  it  is  to  be  at 
once  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world  and 
the  best  Only  then  can  it  afford  to  let 
itself  go  without  injuring  its  own  sensitive 
fabric  or  the  object  upon  which  it  rests. 
As  we  come  to  discern  what  love  really 
means,  to  prefix  the  adjective  "  immoral " 
[55] 


♦•I 

Vifl 

m 


;»«»»-^»*^»»» 


I'he     Orbit    of    Lift 

to  it  will  seem  to  involve  a  contradiction 
in  terms. 

Titian's  well-known  painting,  "Sacred 
and  Profane  Love,"  in  the  Borgln'se  Gal- 
lery at  Rome,  admirable  as  it  is  from  an 
artistic  standpoint,  has  been  thought  by 
some  to  place  in  opposition  the  loves  of 
earth  and  heaven,  as  though  the  former 
were  of  coarser  material.     At  all  events,  a 
false  asceticism  often  falls  into  this  mistake 
in  its  reaction  against  a  far  more  false  li- 
centiousness.     Sidney    Lanier,   that    pure 
and  chivalrous  soul,  to  whom  all  love  was 
sacred,  whether  human  or  Divine,  strikes  a 
more  healthful  note  in  the  poem  In  Ab- 
sence :  — 

"  Let  no  man  lay, '  He  at  his  lady's  feet 

Lays  worship  which  to  heaven  alone  belongs; 
Yea,  swings  the  incense  which  for  God  is  meet 

In  Bippanl  censers  of  light  lover's  songs.' 
Who  says  it,  knows  not  God,  nor  love,  nor  thee, 

For  love  is  large  as  is  yon  heavenly  dome ; 
In  love's  great  blue,  each  passion  is  full  free 

To  fly  his  favourite  flight  and  build  his  home." 

Such  a  doctrine  can  only  be  misunderstood 
[56] 


Love's    Thoroughfare 

by  those  who  forget  that,  while  lova  in  one 
sense  is  free  as  the  birds,  yet  lilce  all  other 
really  free  things,  it  is  bound  by  the  chain 
of  a  noble  necessity.    There  is  no  idle  dal- 
liance in  its  tone,  no  trace  of  successive 
effervescences  induced  by  mere  selfishness. 
Chloe  and  Phyllis  and  all  tlie  rest  of  the 
attractive  band  of  nymphs  are  not  the 
chief  subjects  of  its  lyric.    So  far  from 
being  a  thing  of  caprice,  it  is  rooted  in 
unchanging  principles.     It  can  turn  from 
heaven  to  earth  and  not  be  ashamed.     Its 
mode  of  display  is  governed  by  a  wise 
discernment  which  seeks  to  give  each  his 
due  and  to  defraud  no  one.    And  yet  it 
will  not  consent  to  sacrifice  its  character  to 
a  cheap  reputation  for  geniality.    Though 
not  easily  provoked,  it  is  not  easily  satis- 
fied.   The  only  fear  which  perfect  love  is 
not  intended  to  cast  out  is  the  wholesome 
fear  of  anything  that  would  desecrate  or 
outrage  it     Love  is  baffled  until  it  sees 
its  image  reflected  in  the  face  of  the  world, 
[57] 


i 


The    Orbit    of    Life 

and  with  the  true  artist-feeling  it  aspires  to 
re-Jize  the  consummate  loveliness  which 
perpetually  haunts  its  dreams. 

There  is  a  fine  sanity  about  love.    It 
makes  no  effort  to  describe  its  circumfer- 
ence  until  it  has  first  found  a  centre.     It 
does  not  forget  the  nearer  tasks  of  daily 
life    in  the  glamour  of  some  expansive 
scheme  of  benevolence.    And  because  it 
keeps  inviolate  the  sanctiUes  of  home  and 
of  close  friendship,  it  is  all  the  better  pre- 
pared to  minister  to  others,  to  woo  each 
one  apart,  as  though,  for  the  moment,  no 
one    else  required  its  aid;    and  having 
studied  the  particular  case,  to  say  the  word 
or  do  the  deed  that  is  most  appropriate. 
For  while  all  are  not  equally  lovable,  nor 
equally  inclined  to  be  loved,  if  we  pene- 
trate beneath  the  surface  of  those  hard  in- 
crustations accumulated,  perhaps,  through 
years  of  suffering  or  disappointment  or  the 
world's  neglect  and  scorn,  something  will 
be  found  upon  which  love  can  fasten,  or 

rs8] 


Lovers    T  hor  oug  hf  ar  e 

rather  into  which  love  can  enter  like  a 
leaven  until  it  permeates  the  whole  being. 
Love  is  hard  to  kill.  Even  with  torn  hands 
it  will  strive  to  remove  the  hindrances  to 
beneficent  contact  with  every  child  of  man ; 
and  if  it  fails  at  last  in  its  humble,  reverent 
service,  there  is  nothing  else  that  a.  .  tsike 
up  its  b'jrden  and  finish  the  work  which  is 
given  it  to  do. 

And  though  we  are  in  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury of  the  Christian  era,  Love  still  cries 
out  for  a  fuller  and  sweeter  illustration. 
Earth  waits,  like  a  captive  maiden,  with 
head  uplifted,  and  straining,  eager  eyes, 
on  the  watch,  not  simply  for  a  lover's  com- 
ing, but  for  the  coming  of  Love  itself  to 
break  the  bonds  of  her  imprisonment. 
When  we  learn  to  show  more  true  love  to 
one  another,  it  will  be  easier  for  all  men  to 
believe  in  the  love  of  God.  The  pane- 
gyrics over  the  maivels  of  our  time  often 
tend  to  lay  too  much  stress  upon  the  ma- 
terial side  of  things. 

[59] 


'r 


(^1 


m 


The     Orb 


tt 


of    Life 


W..h  at  every  m,l.  „„  f,„„, .  q^  ,t,/^^  ^ 

drous  age  ! '  '  """ 

Li«le  thinking  if  we  «„rk  o„r  „„^  .,  „oI,ly  as  our  i™n, 
Or  ,f  angek  „,U  commend  U5  a.  the  goal  of  pilgrimage." 

In  the  midst  of  social  and  commercial  rival- 
ries, minor  differences  among  men  are  apt 
to  receive    greater  emphasis    than  their 
fundamental    likenesses;    and    in    many 
cases,  love  is  held  in  abeyance  as  more  or 
less  out  of  place,  or  else  given  only  a 
meagre  and    perfunctory  exercise.     But, 
however  much  we  may  be  helped  or  hin- 
dered in  other  ways,  it  is  love  alone  which 
will  weave  out  of  the  most  ordinary  stuff  a 
robe  of  matchless  beauty.     Love  is  the 
great  magician.    It  unites  the  prophef  s 
insight  and   breadth  of  vision  with  the 
power  of  the  practical  reformer  who  leads 
mankind  step  by  step  out  of  the  lower 
walks  of  progress  towards  the  higher  ones. 
Too  holy  in  its  essence  and  too  serious  in 
its  purpose  to  minimize  the  work  of  evil 
it  dares  to  face  the  sternest  facts  of  experi- 
[60]  *^ 


iSH 


Love's    Thoroughfare 

ence ;  and  still  believing  that  good  is  des- 
tined to  be  the  triumphant  principle  in  the 
universe,  it  chants  its  psalm  of  glorious  ex- 
pectation when  all  other  voices  are  bur- 
dened with  melancholy,  or  hushed  in  the 
silence  of  unconquerable  despair. 


I,' 


\ 

u 


[6i] 


Self -Mast  ery 


"Wm 


"  Eveiy  iDtn'i  NemMn  lion  lies  in  w»it  for  him  some- 
where. The  slothful  man  says,  there  is  a  lion  in  the  path. 
He  says  well.  The  quiet  nxslothful  man  says  the  same, 
and  knows  it  too.  But  they  differ  in  their  farther  reading 
of  the  text.  The  llothful  man  says,  I  shall  be  slain,  and 
the  unilothfii],  it  shall  be." 

— RUSKIN 1  Tit  Qutm  of  Iht  Air. 


Self-Mastery 


IF  one  is  alive,  there  will  be  much  in 
him  which  needs  control,  and  yet  is 
not  going  to  submit  without  a  strug- 
gle.     It  takes  a  practiced  hand  to  manage 
a  pair  of  high-spirited  horses  so  that  they 
will  not  run  away;  and  he  would  be  a 
phenomenal  charioteer  who  could  drive 
wild  beasts  tandem  and  keep  them  under 
the  rein  together.    This  is  the  kind  of  task 
which  ardent  natures  have  to  face.     As 
compared  with  some  primitive  peoples,  we 
have  lost  in  frankness  and  gained  in  out- 
ward decorum,  because  we  hide  objection- 
able eccentricities  from  public  view.     But 
the  human  heart  is  still  a  curious  men- 
agerie.     Though    the    animals    mav    be 
pretty  well  tamed  in  the  cage  of  ci^dli2a- 
tion,  it  does  not  follow  that  their  rougher 
instincte  are  destroyed.     A  good  many 
[6S]  ^ 


f 


The     Orbit    of    Life 


different  selves  often  seem  to  be  included 
in  the  self.  How  shall  we  bind  them  into 
a  real  unity  ? 

"When  (hall  we  lasr 
The  ghost  of  the  brute  that  is  walking  and  haunting  us  yet 
and  be  free  ?  " 

This  is  the  great  problem  of  life. 

The  "temperance"  crusade,  therefore, 
cannot  be  sectional.  It  must  be  pushed 
with  equal  fervour  into  every  province  of 
our  being,  or  no  one  can  tell  when  a 
mutiny  may  ruin  everything.  There  are 
tragic  instances  of  those  whose  brilliant  in- 
tellect has  left  the  world  fragments  of 
glowing  thought  and  imagination,  but 
whose  light  has  been  quenched  before  its 
time  by  an  irresolute  will  or  a  corrupt 
heart  Many  men  of  shrewdness  and  pre- 
vision who,  in  spite  of  difficulties,  carry 
their  plans  to  a  prosperous  issue,  are 
lamentably  weak  in  dealing  with  them- 
selves. No  doubt  "  talent  uniformly  sinks 
with  character,"  and  the  best  that  might 
[66] 


S  e  If-M  a  s  t  ery 


have  been  is  never  accomplished  at  all; 
yet  it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  attain  con- 
siderable success  in  what  he  does,  and  fail 
in  what  he  is,  winning  applause  for  his  en- 
terprises, and  at  the  same  time  knowing 
that  he  is  beaten  and  disgraced  in  his  in- 
most soul. 

We  all  have  our  "off  "  days  when  it  is 
hard  to  work,  hard  to  think,  and  harder 
still  to  be  good.  Virtue  seems  to  chafe  at 
times  against  the  magnificent  monotony, 
and  to  clamour  for  a  short  vacation.  None 
can  escape,  either  ex  officio  or  otherwise, 
from  the  friction  of  some  kind  of  trial  that 
will  test  the  strength  of  manhood.  Moral 
excellence  is  an  achievement,  not  an  acci- 
dent. It  will  not  come  by  lazily  wishing 
for  it,  nor  by  a  vain  attempt  to  prolong  the 
period  of  unconscious  innocence.  To  be 
perfectly  aware  of  the  antagonism  between 
right  and  wrong;  to  feel,  it  may  be,  a 
fierce,  mad  impulse  towards  the  wrong, 
and  yet  to  keep  to  the  right— that  is  virtue 
[67] 


ll^l 


m 


i, 
''  I 

t. 


The     Orbit    of    Life 


And  such  a  triumph  will  be  gained  only  by 
the  unflagging  exercise  of  a  well-trained 
and  athletic  resolution.  Many  tendencies 
of  our  own  nature  oppose  the  troublesome 
effort,  and  many  of  the  world's  maxims 
laugh  it  to  scorn.  The  conduct  of  life  is 
no  easy  thing.  Sometimes  unpleasant 
surprises  check  our  equanimity,  and  the 
goal  seems  like  a  vanishing  Will-o'-the- 
Wisp  that  mocks  the  adventurous  pursuer. 

"  We  do  not  see  it  where  it  is 
At  tile  beginning  of  the  race; 
As  we  proceed  it  shifts  its  place. 
And  where  we  looked  for  crowns  to  fall. 
We  find  the  tug's  to  come,  that's  all." 

It  is  conceivable  that  we  might  have 
been  placed  in  a  world  where  life's  pro- 
gramme could  be  worked  out  with  the 
exact  precision  of  machinery.  But  in  that 
case  we  should  soon  degenerate  into 
moral  imbeciles.  Sharp  alternatives  con- 
stantly necessitate  a  self-revealing  choice, 
and  as  the  domino  drops,  others,  too,  find 
[68  J 


«iF  ^::^L^wmf.mik 


Self-Mastery 


out  what  manner  of  persons  we  ate. 
"Heredity"  and  "environment"  are  fa- 
vourite words  on  the  modem  tongue, 
and  a  good  service  is  rendered  by  those 
who  examine  their  far-reaching  influence. 
"  There  are  faces,"  says  George  Eliot  in 
Adam  Bede,  "  which  nature  charges  with  a 
meaning  and  pathos  not  belonging  to  the 
single  human  soul  that  flutters  beneath 
them,  but  speaking  the  joys  and  sorrows 
of  foregone  generations."  When  we  think 
of  the  awful  handicaps  under  which  some 
labour  all  through  their  life,  we  may  well 
ask  how  far,  under  similar  circumstances, 
we  should  have  differed  even  from  the 
worst  of  them. 

And  yet,  the  belief  remains  that,  no 
matter  how  hard  the  fight  may  be,  moral 
obligation  is  inseparable  from  personality. 
Every  man  is  conscious  of  at  least  a 
measure  of  freedom  which  makes  him 
something  more  than  the  resultant  of  the 
forces  that  play  upon  him,  and  in  a  very 
[69J 


I 


i  I' . 


Tht     Orbit    of    Life 


'J» 


real  sense  the  architect  of  his  own  fortune. 
Few  will  be  disposed  to  sing  the  careless 
song, 

"  W-  h»c  dninken  of  Lethe  «t  lut,  we  hare   tten  of 
Lotus; 
Whil  hurts  it  US  here  Ihu  Mrnws  ace  bom  and 
die? 
We  have  said  to  the  dream  that  caressed  and  the  diaad 
tliat  imote  us, 
■  Good-night  and  Good-bje.' " 

We  feel  that'  earth  is  not  the  place  for  an 
inglorious,  fatalistic  ease,  whatever  its 
helps  or  hindrances,  and  that  the  award 
is  a  fair  one  which  gives  the  crown  of  life 
to  him  that  overcometh. 

In  the  process  of  moral  training,  pro- 
hibitives  of  the  right  sort  will  have  an 
educational  value.  While  nothing  can  ren- 
der superfluous  the  vigilance  of  personal 
discipline,  if  the  State  is  at  no  pains  to  re- 
move needless  obstacles  out  of  the  way  of 
wholesome  living,  it  does  not  escape  re- 
sponsibility. And  yet,  since  legislative 
enactments  would  be  a  dead  letter  if  they 
[70] 


St  If -Mastery 


had 


no  support  from  public  opinion,  it  is. 
after  all,  the  writing  on  the  soul's  statute- 
book  which  counts  most.  There  are  some, 
perhaps,  who  will  keep  to  the  highroad  for 
awhile  simply  because  of  signboards  warn- 
ing against  trespass.  But  though  they 
may  be  frightened  by  such  things,  they 
are  not  ennobled.  The  repressive  method 
has  been  tried  over  and  over  again,  and  at 
most,  it  has  produced  only  a  colourless 
virtue,  wanting  alike  in  courage  and  in 
sympathy.  The  lower  "Don't"  from 
without  is  insufficient  unless  followed  by 
a  higher  "Do"  from  within.  When 
Ulysses'  vessel  neared  the  island  of  the 
Sirens  he  had  himself  tied  to  the  mast  lest 
he  should  go  after  them.  But  Orpheus 
found  a  sufficient  escape  even  from  the 
wish  to  heed  their  seductive  voices  in  the 
sweeter  music  of  his  own  lyre. 

The  true  philosophy  of  life  is  intensely 
positive,  and  the  denials  it  imposes  are  al- 
ways for  the  sake  of  something  better.     It 
[71] 


'*vd 


I 


/.' 


,'( 


1^.^ 


, 
h 


The     Orbit     of    Life 


encourages  hobbies,  and  is  not  so  much 
afraid  of  enthusiasms  as  of  the  lack  of 
them.    Passionate  youth  says,  "  I  want  to 
see  life,"  and  the  answer  should  be,  "  See 
life  by  all  means,  only  be  certain  that  it  is 
life,  and  not  its  hideous  caricature."    The 
firrant  souls  that  roam  through  darksome 
places  need  but  some  pure  kiss  of  love  to 
change  their  abode  and  wake  them  into 
new  vitality.    Human    nature   abhors  a 
vacuum,  and  will  try  to  fill  it  in  some  way. 
The  final  purpose  of  moral  discipline  is  to 
build  up  such  a  strong,  clean  character 
that,  while  rejecting  what  is,  in  its  very 
essence,  a  foe  to  self-realization,  we  are 
able  to  make  everything  which  properly 
belongs  to  us  a  servitor  of  righteousness. 
As  quaint  George  Herbert  puts  it, 

"  Correct  thjr  passion's  spite. 
Then  may  tlie  beasts  draw  thee  to  happy  light." 

Most  men  are  sensible  of  internal  con- 
flict, and  do  not  feel  by  any  means  sure 
[72] 


\M 


Self-Ma  s  t  ery 


always  in  regard  to  the  issue.     But  unless 
one  accepts  the  yoke  of  self-control  of  his 
own  accord,  and  finds  in  bearing  it  the  true 
secret  of  liberty,  in  the  first  crisis  of  trial 
the  impulse  will  be  to  throw  it  off  alto- 
gether.   We  shall  never  become  virtuous 
by  cultivating  the  fear  of  living.     He  who 
is  not  good  in  the  world  has  no  reason  to 
think  that  he  will  be  made  good  by  going 
out  of  it.    When  Paul  said  that  he  "  kept 
exercising  himself"  to  have  a  conscience 
void  of   offense,  the  word  he  used  is  the 
one  from  which  we  derive  "asceticism." 
But  he  was  far  from  employing  it  in  its 
present  sense.    To  his  thought,  the  mora) 
gymnastic  has  to  be  practiced  in  life's  great 
arena,  and  is  not  intended  to  lead  to  a  lugu- 
brious "goody-goodyism"  or  a  Pecksnif- 
fian  saintliness.    It  is  militant,  virile,  the 
healthy  and    normal  preparation  of  the 
soldier  who  expects  to  be  in  the  forefront  of 
the  battle,  not  the  artifice  of  the  timid  soul 
who  runs  away  from  it  to  some  quiet  haven 
[73] 


•;' 


1 


i 


The    Orbit    of    Life 


m 


If' 


where  the  clash  of  the  combatants  is  heard 
no  more. 

Character  must  have  sufficient  sturdi- 
ness  to  enc    s  the  rough  time-breezes,  be- 
cause it  stands  deep-rooted  instead  of  de- 
pending  on  external  prop?  of  any  kind. 
The  Son  of  Man  went  about  freely  among 
men.     He  Uved  their  life  ;  He  rejoiced  in 
their  joys;  He  shared  their  sorrows ;  He 
came  into  sympathetic  contact  with  every 
phase  of  earthly  experience.     He  was  great 
enough  to  be  In  the  world  and  yet  not  to 
be  moved  by  its  wild  follies,  its  false  am- 
bitions, its  ugly  sins.    And  the  disciples 
who  will  best  serve  Him  are  not  those  to 
whom  caution  is  the  queen  of  all  the  virtues, 
and  who  think  it  enough  to  tie  up  their  own 
hands  and  the  hands  of  others  lest  freedom 
should  be  abused ;  but  men  with  a  warm 
love  and  an  overmastering  earnestness, 
who  can  be  temperate  among  the  intemper- 
ate, and  pure  among  publicans  and  sinners ; 
men  who  thoroughly  appreciate  living,  yet 
[74] 


Self-Mastery 


who  would  be  prepared,  if  need  be,  to  lay 
down  their  lives  rather  tlan  be  false  to 
their  conscience  and  their  God. 

Though  Sinai  and  its  Decalogue  may 
be  wanting,  almost  every  people  will  try 
to  devise  something  like  it  for  themselves. 
It  has  been  felt  from  the  earliest  times  and 
among  the  least  enlightened  races  that 
right  and  wrong  are  not  to  be  heaped  to- 
gether in  indiscriminate  confusion,  and  that 
some  effort  should  be  made  to  prevent 
human  nature  from  running  about  en 
deshabille.  The  various  codes  of  ethics 
which  are  the  outgrowth  of  the  centuries, 
whatever  their  defects,  bear  witness  to  the 
strength  and  permanence  of  this  convic- 
tion. The  Greek  and  Roman  moralists 
wrote  very  pretty  sayings  about  self-con- 
trol, and  not  only  commended  it  to  others, 
but,  to  do  them  justice,  endeavoured  in 
many  cases  to  practice  it  themselves.  But 
it  was  dull  work  even  at  the  best,  and  we 
need  not  wonder  that  it  sometimes  ended 
[75] 


^1 


n 


1 


Hi  I' 


I 


7s^ 


rl 


*<•' 


y/J^     Oriif 


of    Life 


in  despair  and  suicide.    One  feels  tlie  im- 
measurable distance,  for  example,  between 
the    Encheiridion    of    Epictetus,    though 
adopted  as  a  religious  work  by  the  early 
Church,  and  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
In  spite  of  his  limitations,  there  is  some- 
thing in  the  Puritan  which  is  not  found  in 
the  Stoic,    The  Galilean  Teacher  expands 
the  whole  boundary  of  life,  and  presents  at 
once  new  principles  of  action  and  new 
motives  for  illustrating  them.     He  shows 
that  morality  is  not  a  thing  of  shreds  and 
patches,  a  tiresome  allegiance  to  rules  and 
shibboleths  dictated  by  a  selfish  desire  for 
our  own  safety,  but  the  child-spirit  seeking 
Its  fulfillment  in  the  most  unstudied  way 
when    it    moves    in    the    orbit    of    glad 
obedience    to    the  Father  whose  kindly 
touch  is  on  all  His  works,  and  who  bids  us 
push  out  poorer  aims  by  sharing  the  pas- 
s«on  of  His  service  for  mankind.    This  is 
the  secret  of  Jesus ;  and  when  any  one  has 
learned  it,  he  can  afford  to  express  his 
[76] 


Self-Ma  s  t  ery 


nature,  and  yet  be  governed  by  that  fine 
restraint  which  keeps  him  evermore  joy- 
ously and  half-unconsciously  submissive 
to  the  perfect  law  of  liberty. 


[77] 


isl 


'J  '  *u^m 


T1 


FtV. 


I  4^ 


In  the  Midst  of  the  Tears 


'm 


It'" 


f 


^n. 


1 


I? 


lii 


"Tli«t  man  who  don  not  beliere  that  each  day  contoina 
an  earlier,  more  ucred,  and  auroral  hour  than  he  has  yet 
profaned,  hai  despaired  of  life,  and  is  punuing  a  descend, 
ing  and  darkening  way." 

— Thoriau:   IVaUn. 

"  I  hear  great  stepi  that  through  the  shade 
Draw  nigher  still  and  nigher. 
And  voices  call  like  that  which  bade 
The  prophet  come  up  higher." 
—J.  R.  LowBLL:  An  Inlirview  viM  Milu  StamiuA. 


\P 


In  the  Midst  of  the  Yean 

THE  opening  chapters  of  a  nation's 
annals    usually   have   some    ro- 
mance about  them,  and  the  singer 
tunes  his  harp  to  strains  of  brave  adven- 
ture and  noble  sacrifice.    But  after  a  few 
generations,  when  an  assured  place  has 
been  found  in  the  theatre  of  the  world,  and 
government  established  and  laws  made, 
unless  memorable  events  help  to  maintain 
the  splendid  patriotism  of  earlier  times,  the 
nation  often  jogs  on  through  a  period  of 
unheroic  routine,  and  possesses  the  equivo- 
cal  happiness  of  having  no  history  that  is 
worth  recording. 

So,  too,  the  career  of  the  individual  be- 
gins with  the  stir  of  action,  and  has  about 
It  the  excitement  of  frequent  surprises. 
There  is  plenty  to  do,  and  almost  every- 
thing to  hope  for.  It  is  good  to  be  alive, 
[81] 


l/J 


mJ^%t' 


The     Orbit    of    Life 


i 

n 


and  a  wide  realm  of  fruitful  enterprise 
seems  to  lie  between  us  and  the  going 
down  of  the  sun.  A  young  man  whose 
nature  has  not  Ijeen  corrupted  by  vicious 
training  not  only  takes  a  bright  view  of 
his  future  possibilities,  but  is  disposed  to 
cultivate  some  elevation  of  tone  in  face  of 
them.  He  may  not  yet  have  learned  the 
secret  of  true  self-respect,  but  he  would 
think  it  inartistic 

«  To  be  *  jarring  and  dissonant  thing 
Amid  the  general  dance  and  minstreby." 

The  illusions  of  youth,  if  one  chooses 
to  call  them  such,  are  often  far  nearer  the 
mark  than  the  disenchantments  of  a  jaded 
maturity.  If  life  be  like  a  voyage,  we  are 
all  more  or  less  sanguine  and  cheerful  at 
the  outset  of  it.  And  towards  the  end, 
however  much  rough  weather  has  been 
encountered  on  the  open  sea,  past  discom- 
forts are  forgotten  in  the  near  prospect  of 
land    and    the    welcome    harbour-lights. 

[82] 


•I' 


iix*» 


In  the  Midst  of  the  Yea 


rs 


Youth  has  its  unquenchable  ardours,  and 
old  age  its  fond  memories  and  dim  antici- 
pations. But  it  is  in  mid-ocean  that  the 
nausea  is  apt  to  come,  when  nothing  can 
be  seen  but  the  gray  sky  and  the  heaving 
billow;  when  the  wintry  blast  whistles 
overhead  and  the  storm  bursts  forth  ;  or, 
what  is  even  more  trying,,  perhaps,  when  a 
monotonous  calm  reigns  everywhere,  and 
each  day  is  just  like  all  the  others.  Rapid 
transit,  at  almost  any  cost,  then  seems  the 
chief  thing  to  be  desired,  no  matter  what 
may  happen  upon  the  farther  shore. 

No  doubt  "  the  daily  round,  the  common 
task  "  deserve  all  the  praise  that  moralists 
have  bestowed  upon  them.  Life  is  main- 
tained by  regular  breathing,  not  by  spasms 
of  feverish  agitation.  If  we  grow  tired  of 
the  reiterated  appeals  of  Duty,  "Stern 
daughter  of  the  voice  of  God,"  it  will  be 
only  a  mischievous  stimulus  that  we  get 
elsewhere.  Now  and  then,  there  are  red- 
letter  days  of  notable  work  or  glorious  in- 
[83] 


I   ; 


n 


»/ 


rm^wiw.tM'^^f^.^^i 


MICTOCOfV   lESOlUTION   T'JT  CHAKT 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


_^  APPLIED  \t\MC3E    In 

a^B"-  '653  Eosl   Main   SIfeel 

r..^=  (7'6)   482  -  0300  -  Phone 

^S  (^'6)  zee -5989 -Fax 


; 


I 


n 


m 


The     Orbit    of    Life 

sight  or  unlioked-for  recompense,  days 
which  tower  aloft  like  glittering  mountain- 
peaks  above  the  level  plain.  But  in  the 
case  of  most  men,  great  days  are  rare. 
And  unless  we  feel  an  interest  in  the  un- 
eventful ones,  and  find  a  pleasure  in  the 
gifts  they  bring,  life  is  sure  to  be  vexed 
with  so  much  discontent  and  ennui  as  to 
raise  the  serious  question  whether  it  is 
worth  going  on  with  at  all. 

The  thirst  for  novelty  is  natural  enough, 
and  many  a  heart  has  been  broken  for 
want  of  knowing  how  to  quench  it  Nov- 
elty cannot  be  purchased  by  changing  our 
skies.  It  comes  unsought  by  means  of 
that  gradual  self-development  which  all 
the  time  imparts  fresh  significance  to 
everything  around  us.  Eager  natures  do 
not  take  kindly  to  a  treadmill;  and  the 
man  with  a  growing  soul  need  not  fear 
that,  under  any  circumstances,  he  will  be- 
come the  victim  of  such  a  bondage.  Even 
the  most  ordinary  duties  preserve  some  at- 
[84] 


In  the  Midst  of  the  Years 

tractiveness  if  we  are  at  all  conscious  of 
the  power  to  make  each  day  a  new  cre- 
ation. 

Of  course,  as  time  runs  on,  we  shall 
inevitably  lose  some  things.    We  cannot 
keep  youth  always,  with  its  optimism  of 
inexperience.    The  psalm  of   life,   which 
opened  in  sprightly  measure,  falls  after 
awhile  into  blank  verse,  full  of  the  roll  of 
rich,  strong  music,  or  else  largely  mean- 
ingless.   Some  earlier  hopes  are  unlikely 
to  be  realized,  and  sorrows  that  were  not 
anticipated  throw  their  dark  shadow  across 
our  pathway.    And  if  no  gains  appear  to 
compensate  for  the  losses,  we  may  be  in- 
clined some  day  to  laugh  with  bitter  irony 
at  the  visions  that  once  haunted  us,  and  to 
exchange  them  for  "  facts  and  figures  "  as 
more  suitable  to  a  sedateness  which  looks 
for  litde  more.     It  ;    vhen  we  have  been 
forced  to  abandon  ct   ain  crude  ideas,  and 
have  not  yet  found  an  assured  place  in  our 
mind  for  better  ones  that  the  temptation 
[85] 


'  ""J 


i^ 


I  la 


I 


i 


« I ' 


y/i^     Or^//    0/    L//« 


comes  to  give  up  what  seems  a  vain  striv- 
ing, and    resign    ourselves   to  boredom. 
How  many  hundreds  of  times  we  have 
gone  to  office  or  factory  or  church,  observ- 
ing the  same  rules,  performing  the  same 
kind  of  service,  taking  it  for  granted,  per- 
haps, that  while  all  this  is  proper  enough 
and  necessary  in  many  ways,  it  would  be 
absurd  to  expect  any  fresh  delight  or  in- 
spiration in  it.     And  so  failure  visits  us  in 
the  midst  of  the  years,  or,  what  is  just  as 
bad,  a  deadly  staleness.    We  seem  to  be 
disillusioned.     The    fire    of   the    soul    is 
cooled,  the  rapture  gone,  the  bright  light 
faded  away.    We  have  dropped  from  "  the 
glory  and  the  dream,"  and  it  suffices  us 
now  to  be  respectable  I 

This  is  the  prosaic  course  of  not  a  few 
careers  that  were  once  described  as 
"full  of  promise."  They  have  lost  the 
capital  which,  if  wisely  invested,  would 
have  gone  on  increasing— a  grip  of  truth, 
a  broad  view  of  things,  a  resolute  will,  a 
[86] 


In  the  Midst  of  the  Years 


pure  and  sympathetic  heart.     Petty  con- 
cerns swallow  up  their  energy,  and  make 
their  souls  Lilliputian.     They  present  the 
pathetic  spectacle  of  self-imposed  deteriora- 
tion, not  through  any  horrible  misdoing, 
but  simply  because  they  have  not  resisted 
the  forces  hostile  to  human  progress.    We 
cannot  help  it  that  the  days  of  earth  are 
growing  fewer ;  but  the  fault  is  ours  if  they 
are  growing  poorer.     It  makes  little  differ- 
ence under  what  lucky  star  a  man  was 
bom    if    he    has    stopped    living.      The 
amount  of  youthfulness  left  in  us  cannot 
be  settled  by  the  calendar.     He  who  still 
thinks  profoundly  and  feels  sincerely  and 
lives  unselfishly  does  not  need  to  trouble 
much  about  the  flight  of  time,  for  he  is  be 
ing  carried  along  with  it  towards  better 
Edens  than  any  he  leaves  behind.    The 
zest  of  life  will  always  be  retained  if  we  do 
not  cheapen  ourselves.     It  must  never  be 
supposed  that  the  vital  current  has  to  grow 
thinner,  and    that    its    brightest  sparkle 
[87] 


:) 


i 


I 


ij' 


TAe     Orbit    of    Life 

comes  from  days  that  are  no  more. 
Rivers  deepen  as  they  near  the  sea  unless 
the  sands  have  choked  their  waters. 

Personal  character  and  nothing  else 
ulrimately  determines  how  life  shall  look 
to  us.  The  quality  of  the  microcosm  is 
the  all-important  thing. 

"  Fixed  on  the  enormoiu  galaxy. 
Deeper  and  older  teemed  his  eye; 
And  matched  his  srgeiance  sublime 
The  ladturnity  of  tim  :." 

One  may  stiU  hold  his  head  er«^  through 
poverty  or  toil  or  pain,  and  triumph  over 
them,  but  it  is  impossible  to  do  so  if  the 
soul  itself  has  been  materialized.    That  is 
what  makes  a  man  old  even  though  no 
gray  hairs  are  upon  him.    The  revival  of 
life  comes  from  within  and  tends  to  the 
constant    production    of    healthy    moral 
tissue.     Why  should  we  be  always  pray- 
Jag  the  same  prayers,  fighting  the  same 
enemies,  confessing  with  easy  nonchalance 
that  we  are  the  same  "miserable  sinn^  "  ? 
[88] 


In  the  Midst  of  the  Years 

When  we  feel  that  we  have  still  a  long 
way  to  go  before  we  reach  perfection,  we 
shall  scarcely  be  content  to  "  nuirk  time." 
And  unless  the  higher  side  of  cur  nature 
has  become  hermetically  sealed,  it  can 
never  be  said  that  nothing  more  remains 
for  us  to  do  or  be,  and  that  all  further 
effort  is  futile. 

Watts'  picture  of  Hope  as  a  drooping 
woman,  seated  on  the  apex  of  the  globe, 
clasping  in  her  hand  a  lyre  every  string  of 
which  b  broken  save  one,  seems  to  con- 
tradict the  general  idea,  and  presents  a 
puzzle  to  many.    But  the  artist's  curious 
symbolism  suggests,  at  least,  this  truth, 
that  Hope,  so  far  from  being  the  exclusive 
monopoly  of  youth,  in  its  highest  and  most 
enduring  form  is  the  last  result  of  well- 
tested  manhood,  a  wmter-blooming  plant 
in  the  garden  of  the  soul.    "  Experience 
worketh  hope"  when  experience  has  gone 
deep  enough.     Others  may  think  they  have 
discovered  our  limit  of  attainment,  and 
£89] 


»^ 


A 


t — *-^   ^^}. 

'-I 
•if 


TAe     Orbit     of    Life 


to 


ceased  to  feel  any  further  interest ;  but  we 
need  not  try  to  appraise  our  full  value  un- 
til we  have  taken  into  account  the  marvel- 
lous encouragement  to  noblest  living  that 
comes  from  the  vision  of  an  all-patient  and 
all-pitiful  love.     Dorothea,  the  heroine  of 
Middlemarch  opened  up  a  wide  vista  when 
she  said  "  that  by  desiring  what  is  perfectly 
good,  even  when  we  don't  quite  know  what 
it  is,  and  cannot  do  what  we  would,  we  are 
part  of    the  DiVine  power  against  evil, 
widening  the  skirts  of  light,  and  making 
the    struggle    with    darkness    narrower." 
The  possibility  of  such  an  alliance  may 
well  take  the  lassitude  out  of  any  one,  and 
teach  him  that  the  most  serviceable  revela- 
tions are  written  in  the  regular  text-books 
and  amid  the  scenes  of  each  passing  day. 
It  is  not  meant  that  we  should  be  always 
walking  through  meadows  of  asphodel,  or 
lying  at  ease  on  the  slopes  of  the  Delectable 
Mountains.    Our  main  road  is  across  the 
level  prairie.     But  we  have  everything  of 
[90] 


i,K 


mt^%m 


In  the  Midst  of  the  Tears 

importance  there  that  we  can  find  any- 
where, the  varied  education  of  events,  the 
grand  imperatives  of  duty,  the  shout  of  our 
brothers'  triumph  or  the  murmur  of  their 
pain,  the  stimulus  of  human  friendship,  and 
above  all  — 

"  Huih,  I  prajr  jroi  I 
Wluu  if  tbii  friend  happen  *o  be— God  7  " 


[91] 


'  t 


t 


M  ▼ 


T/te   Triumph   of  Joy 


11 


i 


i 


"Tike  joy  home. 
And  nuke  a  place  in  thy  great  heart  for  her, 
And  give  her  time  to  grow  and  cherish  her  i 
Then  will  she  come  and  oft  will  ting  to  thee 
When  thou  art  working  in  the  furrows ;  ay. 
Or  weeding  in  the  sacred  hour  of  dawn. 
It  is  a  comely  fashion  to  be  glad. 
Joy  is  the  grace  we  say  to  God." 

— JiAN  INGILOW :  DsmimioH, 


-^:^-:^,! 


The   Triumph  of  "Joy 

INSTEAD  of  dealing  with  joy  in  a 
half-apologetic  way,  as  some  severe 
morali£»s  have  been  inclined  to  do,  it 
would  be  more  to  the  purpose  to  show  what 
joy  really  means,  and  in  what  direction 
life  should  move  in  order  to  be  sure  of  it. 
For  no  matter  how  foolish  the  method  of 
search  sometimes,  the  world  goes  pleasure- 
hunting  in  spite  of  admonition,  and  until 
human  nature  is  entirely  changed  will  in 
all  likelihood  continue  to  do  so.    Far  more 
than  mere  variety,  joy  is'  the  spice  of  life, 
and    spreads    such  a  healthy  contagion 
among  all  who  come  within  its  range  of 
influence  that  to  a  great  many  people  it 
will  seem  better  to  be  beside  oneself  with 
joy  than  a  pattern  of  rationality  without  it. 
Whether  we  understand  him  or  not,  Mark 
Tapley   is  certain  of  a  welcome  almost 
anywhere. 

[95] 


'•1 


The     Orbit    of    Life 


l> 


I 

i  '7'- 


There  are  those,  perhaps,  who  might  re- 
sent his  company,  as  Martin  Chuzzlewit 
was  inclined  to  do  in  his  morbid  moods. 
If  one  has  closed  his  own  shutters,  he 
scarcely  wishes  to  see  others  open  theirs 
towards  the  sunshine,  or  to  hear  them  sing- 
ing when  the  rain  beats  down  through  the 
gathering  night  Some  people  seem  to 
have  a  kind  of  genius  for  being  miserable. 
They  take  a  miscroscopic  view  of  their 
troubles  which  increases  them  a  hundred 
fold,  and  post  dark-eyed  watchers  along 
the  walls  of  their  habitation  to  frighten  the 
fairies  away.  They  feel  a  sort  of  joy  in 
joylessness,  and  in  many  cases  expect  to 
be  regarded  as  more  interesting  because  of 
the  deep  gloom  that  enshrouds  them. 
In  some  quarters,  melancholy  has  become 
a  cult  The  professional  pessimist  is  one 
of  the  products  of  the  times. 

Of  course,  it  is  not  possible  to  ignore 
the  wide  contrasts  which  exist  in  human 
circumstances.     Any  one   can  be  joyous 
[96] 


The    Triumph    of  Joy 

when  things  go  well;  but  we  are  all  apt 
to  view  certain  tracts  of  life  as  consigned 
to  irremediable  sadness.     When  a  man  is 
sick  or  in  trouble,  every  generous  mind  will 
make  some  excuse  for  him  even  if  he  does 
display  a  measure  of  depression  and  irrita- 
bility.   It  would  be  cruel  to  try  to  force 
stoicism  upon  a   bruised    and    wounded 
heart.    And  yet  it  is  a  matter  of  constant 
observation  that  the  amount  of  real  joy  in 
any  career  is  not  determined  by  the  ap- 
parent incentives  to  it.     Dirges  have  come 
from  the  bright  palace,  and  lyric  sweetness 
from  the  black  prison-house.     No  philoso- 
phy can  render  us  altogether  careless  of 
surroundings,  but  it  is  a  poor  philosophy 
which  settles  our  estate  by  nothing  else. 

Making  full  allowance,  then,  for  varieties 
of  temperament  and  woridly  fortune,  that 
which  best  deserves  the  name  of  joy  must 
go  deeper  than  these,  and  have  some  per- 
manence about  it.  A  hearty  laugh  is  as 
good  as  a  tonic,  whether  it  be  the  laughter 
[97] 


The     Orbit    of    Life 


of  children  over  their  play,  or  the  laughter 
of  full-grown  men  who  have  not  quite  left 
all  their  innocence  behind  them.  But  joy 
is  more  than  mirth,  and  cannot  always  be 
guaged  by  the  amount  of  visible  expres- 
sion. One  may  go  grinning  through  the 
world,  and  yet  not  know  what  real  joy 
means.  There  are  hours  when  careless 
merriment  would  jar  upon  us,  and  the 
commonplaces  of  pity  stir  up  the  ancient 
rage  of  Job  in  presence  of  his  blundering 
comforters.  But  that  deep  joy  which  is 
the  witness  of  the  soul's  vitality  may  still 
abide,  strong  in  the  faith  which  no  care 
can  stifle,  and  no  disaster  overwhelm,  be- 
cause it  sees  even  through  its  tears  some 
rays  of  sunshine,  and  feels  the  undergird- 
ing  of  gfreat  arms  of  love. 

Christian  art  has  been  inclined  to  deal 
too  much  in  sombre  colours,  and  its  thought 
has  often  lingered  too  persistently  before 
the  empty  tomb.  The  saint  of  the  New 
Testament  is  not  like  Simeon  Stylites,  a 
[98] 


The    Triumph    of  Joy 

man  of  pale  countenance,  and  numbed 
energy,  and  isolated  disdain  of  things  ter- 
restrial. It  is  true  that  he  was  familiar 
with  hardship  and  peril,  and  that  he  could 
not  tell  at  what  hour  he  might  be  prisoned 
in  a  dark  cell  of  the  TuUianum  or  con- 
demned to  a  death  in  the  amphitheatre. 
But  in  spite  of  this,  he  seems  full  of  buoy- 
ant energy.  And  though,  apart  alto- 
gether from  the  personal  hazard,  his  re- 
ligion reveals  elements  of  pathos  in  human 
existence  which  had  been  largely  unre- 
garded before,  and  will  not  explain  away 
earth's  deepejt  needs,  nor  forget  them  in 
the  lust  of  selfishness,  yet  it  refuses  to  join 
with  some  other  faiths  in  the  irrational 
glorification  of  pain.  Jesus  began  His 
miracles  at  a  wedding-feast,  and  honestly 
accepted  what  was  agreeable,  unless  it 
would  hinder  Him  in  the  accomplishment 
of  the  work  He  had  to  do.  He  often 
appears  in  dark  places,  but  always  as 
the  Cloud-Dispeller.  And  though  He  is 
[99] 


M 


The     Orbit    of    Life 


called  the  Man  of  Sorrows,  it  was  j  iy  and 
not  sorrow  which  has  made  His  name  im- 
mortal. 

No  one  can  be  thought  more  piov  be- 
cause he  is  disagreeable.  Neither  God 
nor  man  is  gratified  by  a  rueful  counte- 
nance. The  Highlander  who,  when  he 
saw  men  and  women  on  the  Sabbath 
walking  along  the  streets  of  Edinburgh, 
and  smiling  as  they  went,  exclaimed, 
"What  an  awfu'  ^ichtl  "  fell  into  the  mis- 
take of  supposing  that  it  is  not  possible  to 
keep  both  conscience  and  vivacity.  If  one 
does  not  seem  reasonably  content  in  doing 
what  is  right,  he  will  not  gain  disciples  by 
groaning  over  it.  Good  people  should  be 
attractive,  even  though  attractive  people 
are  not  always  good.  A  well-rounded  na- 
ture will  not  look  upon  joy  as  an  optional 
matter.  The  highest  kind  of  virtue  is 
marked  by  cheerfulness ;  and  though  we 
are  yet  a  long  way  from  that  goal,  when 
human   life  is   perfected,  inclination  and 

[lOO] 


The    Triumph    of  Joy 

duty  will  end  their  conflict,  and  we  shall 
most  want  to  do  just  what  we  ought  to  do. 
True  joy,  then,  is  an  essentially  moral 
attainment.  Resting  upon  a  principle, 
and  not  upon  any  caprice  of  mood  or  cir- 
cumstance, nothing  from  without  can 
either  create  or  destroy  it  Its  root  is 
faith  in  a  wise  anr"  loving  God,  and  its 
flower  is  pure  and  unselfish  character.  We 
can  scarcely  construct  sdone  the  fabric  of 
human  happiness.  Some  doubt  and  fear 
must  always  attend  our  imperfect  under- 
standing of  things,  and  our  limited  power 
to  control  them.  Even  Nature  has  its  hur- 
ricanes as  well  as  its  calm  sunsets,  and 
"  red  in  tooth  and  claw  with  ravin  "  shrieks 
against  a  creed  of  hope,  or  at  least  finds 
some  sad  voice  thus  to  interpret  its  outcry. 
And  the  storm-spirit  broods,  too,  at  times, 
over  the  plains  of  life  till  the  eye  tires  of 
waiting  for  peace  to  return  once  more. 
But  blind  chance  is  not  the  ruler  of  the 
world.     In  spite  of  all  the  misery  which 

[lOI] 


in 


The     Orbit 


of    Life 


evil  breeds  in  its  fever-swamps,  and  ofien 
sends  across  into  the  clearer  regions  be- 
yond, "through  the  ages  one  increasing 
purpose  runs,"  and  nothing  can  ever  pre- 
vent its  final  consummation.  Earth's  groan 
and  travail  are  but  the  minor  interlude. 
Joy  is  the  C  Major  of  life's  music,  and  the 
only  question  is  whether  our  voice  shall 
help  to  swell  the  harmony. 

It  might  be  supposed  that  joy  and  sor- 
row are  mutually  exclusive  of  each  other, 
but  no  one  will  thinlc  so  who  has  had  much 
experience  of  either.    Some  ghosts  of  sad 
remembrance  are  liable  to  obtrude  them- 
selves even  upon  life's  banquet-scenes ;  and 
the  germ  of  immortal  joy  often  lies  coiled 
up  in  embryo  at  the  very  heart  of  the 
keenest  trial,  and,  at  length,  by  the  force 
of  its  own  inherent  vitality,  bursts  through 
every  bond  that  would  try  to  fetter  it    The 
"  divine  discontent "  of  noble  spirits  con- 
tains  also  the  rich  delight  of  constant  as- 
piration.    "  Be  our  joy  three  parts  pain," 
[  i«] 


The    Triumph    of  Joy 

it  is  the  pain  which  is  transient,  and  the 
joy  which  never  vanishes.     Though  the 
mere  shallow  pursuit  of  joy  is  futile,  it 
hastens  to  meet  those  who  are  ready  for  it, 
and  helps  them  on  their  journey  from  the 
rugged  north,  across  the  mountains,  to  the 
fields  of  vernal  bloom.     The  large-souled 
man  illustrates  in  his  nature  the  paradox 
of  a  solemn  joyousness.     He  cannot  be 
satisfied  with  a  mere  ephemeral  joy,  nor  a 
joy  which  has  no  care  for  others.     He 
knows   at  times  the  solitude  of  anxious 
thought,  and  feels  the  burden  of  earth's 
mysteries.    Yet  he  is  moving  ever  onward 
under  an  increasing  light  amid  voices  that 
are  full  of  inspiration. 


[  103] 


14 


In  Defense   of  Xanthippe 


& 


Birnici.  ••  And  we— we  have  a  long  earneit  day  of 
work  before  us;  I  moit  of  all.  But  let  it  come;  gather 
cloie  around  me,  you  true  and  faithful  women.  I  have 
learned  thii  in  theie  days :  it  is  you  women  who  are  the 
pillars  of  society." 

/■OM.  "  Then  you  have  learned  a  poor  wlidom,  brother- 
in-law.  (La;yi  Atr  kanii  firmly  ufon  kii  lAouUtr.)  No, 
no;  the  spirits  of  Truth  and  Freedom— these  are  the 
Pillars  of  Society." 

— Henrik  Iuin:  7»»  Pillan  c/Scntly. 

"  And  so  these  twain,  upon  the  skirts  of  Time, 
Sit  side  by  side,  full  suram'd  in  all  their  powers, 
Dispensing  harvest,  sowing  the  To-be, 
Self-reverent  each,  and  reverencing  each. 
Distinct  in  individualities. 
But  like  each  other  e'en  as  those  who  love." 

— TuiNVsoN  I  T»t  Mhciu. 


'^-im.^- 


In  Defense  of  Xanthippe 

THE  wife  of  Socrates  has  acquired 
such  a  bad  reputation  that  the 
stoutest  champion  of  woman's 
rights  would  be  thought  quixotic  by  most 
people  if  he  essayed,  at  this  late  hour,  to 
take  up  arms  on  her  behalf.  It  is  gener- 
ally agreed  to  accept  Xanthippe,  without 
further  question,  as  the  embodiment  of 
shrewishness,  and  many  a  quiet  joke  has 
been  made  over  the  trials  of  the  illustrious 
teacher  who  was  unfortunate  enough  to  be 
tied  to  such  a  vixen.  Yet  it  seems  only 
fair  to  look  at  both  sides  of  the  matter  be- 
fore passing  a  final  verdict  either  upon  her 
personally,  or  upon  that  unwelcome  sister- 
hood of  termagants  of  which  she  is  the 
almost  unchallenged  prototype.  What- 
ever were  the  faults  of  Xanthippe,  it  is  not 
[  107] 


I 


Tht    Orbit    of    Life 


likely  that  they  have  been  diminished  by 
so  much  confident  tallc  about  them.  Soc- 
rates himself  ought  to  be  a  more  reliabh 
witness  than  any  one  else ;  and  though  not 
given  to  compliment,  in  a  dialogue  with 
his  son  Umprocles,  recorded  in  the  Memo- 
rabilia of  Xenophon,  he  admits  her  do- 
mestic virtues.  The  evidence  concerning 
her  daily  mode  of  life  is  slender ;  but  we 
know  that,  when  her  husband  was  con- 
demned to  drink  the  h  -mlock,  she  showed 
a  solicitous  affection,  and  was  greatly  dis- 
tressed at  the  prospect  of  his  death. 

Masculine  expectancy  often  runs  high  in 
regard  to  "  the  gentier  sex,"  and  when  dis- 
appointed is  soon  stirred  to  a  considerable 
show  of  indignation.  There  may  be  in  all 
this,  perhaps,  an  indirect  tribute  to  the 
sense  of  woman's  worth,  and  the  won- 
drously  benignant  influence  possible  to 
her.  But  sufficient  weight  is  not  always 
given  to  the  conditions  under  which  the 
best  that  is  in  her  is  likely  to  be  brought 
[108] 


In  Defense  of  Xanthippe 

out  Woman's  more  sensitive  organism 
renders  her  peculiarly  liable  to  the  frustra- 
tion of  her  true  instincts,  and  her  legitimate 
powers  of  earthly  ministry.  No  one  will 
ever  understand  her  if  he  does  not  think  it 
worth  while  to  take  some  pains  to  do  so. 
She  is  very  apt  to  turn  only  the  unillumined 
disc  of  her  soul  to  the  gaze  of  selfishness 
or  idle  curiosity,  and  like  a  delicate  plant, 
put  forth  no  lovely  blossoms  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  nipping  frost  However  noble 
the  range  of  self-sacrif.ce  in  any  nature,  it 
emerges  bruised  and  disfigured  .hen  it 
fails  to  meet  with  some  measure  of  genuine 
appreciation. 

Though  the  whole  world  must  needs  ad- 
mire the  philosophic  insight  of  Socrates, 
from  a  conjugal  point  of  view  he  is  by  no 
means  beyond  criticism.  He  is  willing  to 
admit  the  most  suitable  women  to  culture 
in  music  and  gymnastic,  in  the  interests  of 
the  Guards  of  an  ideal  Republic;  but  at 
the  same  time  he  adds  that  in  all  offices,  a 
[  109  J 


I<  ( 


The     Orbit     of    Life 


woman  is  inferior  to  a  man.     Even  if  this 
were  true,  it  is  irritating  to  have  it  said  so 
abruptly.    Occupied  as  Socrates  is  in  trac- 
ing the  superstructure  of  the  State,  he  thinks 
too  little  of  the  Home  which  is  its  foun- 
dation, and  marriage  seems  a  mere  episode 
too  trifling  to  suggest  to  his  mind  any 
duties  of  mutual  affection  and  helpfulness. 
While  he  speculates,  Xanthippe  is  obliged 
to  live  as  best  she  can.    And  when  she 
goes  to  him  in  his  last  hours  with  a  real 
womanly  grief  in  her  heart,  he  sits  with  his 
friends,  developing  that  marvellous  argu- 
ment on  the  immortality  of  the  soul  which 
the  Phado  records,  and  having  given  some 
brief  directions,  calmly  requests  that  she 
and  the  children  be  sent  away.    And  they 
take  their  departure  without  one  word  of 
comfort  from  him. 

It  is  almost  certain  that  Xanthippe  did 
not  fully  appreciate  her  husband's  great 
mental  endowments.  Like  the  simple 
wife  in  In  Memoriam, 

[no] 


In  Defense  of  Xanthippe 

"  Her  faith  is  fixt  and  cannot  move. 
She  darkly  feels  him  great  and  wise, 
She  dwells  on  him  with  faithful  eyes, 

'  I  cannot  undersUnd :  I  love.' " 

Even  the  imperturbable  Socrates  may  have 
been  a  little  ruffled  by  the  lack  of  ardent 
discipleship  at  his  own  hearth-stone,  and 
the  mild  regard  he  showed  for  the  genius 
of  Aspasia  is  explicable  naturally  enough 
without  any  imputation  on  his  moral  char- 
acter.   In  his  book  on  The  Intellectual  Life, 
Mr.  Hamerton  says  that  "  ior  an  intellectual 
man  only  two  courses  are  ope  ; ;  either  he 
ought  to  marry  some  simple,  dutiful  woman 
who  will  bear  him  children,  and  see  to  the 
household    matters,  and    love  him  in  a 
trustful  spirit  without  jealousy  of  his  oc- 
cupations; or  else,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
ought  to  marry  some  highly  intelligent 
lady,  able  to  carry  her  education  far  be- 
yond school  experiences,  and  willing  to 
become    his    companion  in  the  arduous 
paths  of  intellectual  labour."     But  womei 
[III] 


The     Orbit    of    Life 


\ 


are  not  shut  up  to  either  ex'  ne  of  pro- 
found scholarship  or  completely  barren 
dullness.  A  certain  sort  of  talent,  no 
doubt,  is  indispensable  to  remove  friction 
from  continuous  intercourse,  but  it  is  not 
so  much  a  talent  for  common  knowledge 
as  for  that  common  sympathy  which  helps 
towards  knowledge.  And  if  the  use  of 
this  talent  fails  to  be  encouraged,  first  of 
all,  among  those  who  are  nearest,  it  may 
well  seem  the  safest  thing,  in  order  to 
avoid  the  risk  of  tragic  consequences,  to 
bury  it  in  the  eath. 

A  woman's  heart,  hungering  for  the 
bread  of  love,  will  scarcely  be  satisfied 
with  the  stone  of  speculation,  however 
highly  polished  it  may  be.  Xanthippe's 
infirmities  of  temper,  in  all  likelihood,  were 
aggravated,  if  not  created,  by  a  void  of 
tenderness.  It  is  hard  to  imagine  Socrates 
paying  homage  even  to  the  most  noble  of 
the  opposite  sex.  How  absurd,  for  ex- 
ample,  it  would  sound  to  put  into  his 

[112] 


Lm  h-a 


In  Defense  of  Xanthippe 

mouth    such  sentiments  as  those  which 
Sir  Philip  Sidney  expresses :  — 

"  O  fair,  O  sweet. 
When  I  do  look  on  thee 
In  whom  all  joyj  so  well  agree 
Heart  and  soul  do  sing  in  me." 

Of  course,  Xanthippe  was  not  Stella.    And 
besides,  there  is  a  wide  difference  of  tem- 
perament between  the  ill-favoured  Greek 
philosopher  even  in  his  pre-marital  moods, 
and    the    romantic    young  courtier  who 
wrote  Arcadia.    The  one  might  possibly 
mean  more  than  he  said,  and  the  other 
say  more  than  he  meant.    But  if  any  man 
lets  his  domestic  emotions  grow  so  cold 
that  he  never  shows  them,  he  will  suffer 
for  it  in  some  way  sooner  or  later,  no 
matter  how  brilliant  his  intellect  or  at- 
tractive   his    personality.     A    sonnet    to 
Xanthippe  seems  quite  out  of  place ;  but 
there  is  no  conclusive  reason  for  thinking 
that  she  would  have  taken  it  amiss.     Even 
the  most  tuneful  instrument  may  become 
the  centre  of  awful  noises  when  the  player 
["3] 


i 


7 he     Orbit    of    Life 

does  not  know  his  business ;  and  the  wider 
the  range  of  subde  sound,  the  greater  the 
peril  of  producing  such  unskilled  effects  as 
Mrs.  Browning  describes, 

**  Fine  sleights  of  hand 
And  unimagined  fingering,  shuffling  off 
The  hearer's  soul  through  hurricanes  of  notes 
To  a  noisy  Tophet." 

And  there  is  nothing,  perhaps,  which  will 
more  surely  produce  discordant  results  in 
a  woman's  nature  than  the  careless  in- 
difference which  cannot  be  at  the  trouble 
of  trying  to  interpret  it  If  she  is  treated 
as  a  mere  toy,  or  as  constitutionally  in- 
capable of  sharing  the  highest  thoughts 
and  aspirations,  in  a  few  cases  she  may 
clam:,ur  loudly  for  her  rights,  but,  as  a 
rule,  she  is  too  sad  for  anything  but  a 
silence  broken  now  and  then  by  the 
irrepressible  ebullitions  of  wounded  self- 
respect.  Her  whole  being  is  thus  chrown 
into  an  unnatural  turmoil;  and  even 
though  she  Ao^s  come  to  illustrate  our 
[114] 


"Ht't-.i 


In  Defense  of  Xanthippe 

worst  picture  of  Xanthippe,  the  whole 
blame  for  such  degeneration  cannot  be 
fairly  laid  at  her  door. 

We  are  in  no  special  danger  nowadays 
of    falling    into    benumbed    conjugality 
ilirough    excess  of  high  mental  labour. 
Socrates  was  an  outstanding  figure  even 
amid  "  the  glorious  citizen  life  "  of  Athens. 
For  the  most  part,  too,  we  have  accepted 
ideas  of  the  place  of  woman  which  the  best 
thought  of  ancient  times  seldom  reached  at 
all.    Yet  it  is  not  to  be  put  down  to  the 
mere  fussiness   of  nervous  moralists  that 
some  warning  voices  are  heard  against  the 
tendency  to  disintegrate  the  home,  to  lower 
its  value,  to  destroy  its  sacredness.    What- 
ever changes  take  place  in  the  structure  of 
social  life,  the  home  must  always  remain  as 
the  basis  of  it     Does  not  history  prove  that 
the  welfare  of  the  State  is  bound  up  with 
its  purity  and  permanence  ?    From  the  in- 
spiration which  it  brings  will  come  a  large 
part  of  the  strength  to  perform  life's  tasks, 
[IIS] 


^'i:9 


The     Orbit    of    Life 


to  endure  its  trials,  to  surmount  its  diffi- 
culties, to  reap  its  best  rewards.  But  if  the 
bruises  of  ruder  contacts  are  to  find  a  heal- 
ing there,  the  husband  must  do  his  part  to 
secure  this  happy  consummation.  No  true 
woman  desires  to  be  "emancipated"  in 
any  unseemly  way.  But  she  does  desire, 
and  with  perfect  right,  freedom  to  move  in 
the  sphere  of  her  proper  activities,  neither 
hindered  by  prejudice,  nor  paralyzed  by 
neglect.  It  would  be  a  sad  outlook  for  the 
nation  if  familiarity  bred  contempt,  and  the 
household  gods  were  no  longer  worshipped 
in  the  keen  struggle  for  place  or  fortune. 

The  proverbial  uncertainty  of  woman  is 
not  always  easy  to  explain,  especially  in 
view  of  the  constant  element  which  often 
underiies  it  all.  But  there  is  no  ineradic- 
able defect  obliging  her,  in  any  case, 
to  study  the  art  of  vituperation.  When 
she  is  goaded  into  it,  no  one  else  can  be 
more  conscious  of  the  injury  than  she  is 
herself.  If  women  were  angels,  he  would 
[116] 


t'^Wi 


In  Defense  of  Xanthippe 

be  a  bold  man  who  aspired  to  die  honour 
of  living  »;di  them.  "  It  is  better,"  says 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  "  to  face  the  fact, 
and  ioiow,  when  you  marry,  that  you  take 
into  your  life  a  creature  of  equal,  if  of  un- 
like frailties,  whose  weak  human  heart 
beats  no  more  tunefully  than  yours."  And 
yet,  though  woman  is  not  an  ethereal  es- 
sence to  which  everything  save  perfection 
is  impossible,  if  she  is  wanting  in  humility 
of  faith  and  strength  of  service,  if  her  life 
has  no  serious  purpose,  but  is  only  a  thing 
of  mean  and  trivial  aims,  of  wasted  hours 
and  idle  expectations ;  if  the  garment  of 
purity,  woven  of  the  light  and  shedding  its 
transfiguring  radiance  around,  is  torn 
asunder  or  exchanged  for  a  robe  of  venom, 
it  means  much  that  the  eclipse  of  true 
womanhood  should  throw  a  shadow  of 
darkness  everywhere.  But  it  is  hard  to 
keep  ideals  inviolate  when  rough  hands  are 
busied  in  the  task  of  spoliation.  There  is 
a  reciprocal  influence  in  the  standards 
[«'7] 


The     Orbit    of    Life 

which  the  sexes  set  up  for  themselves ;  and 
If  the  knight  expects  his  lady  to  buckle  on 
his  armour  well,  he  must  be  sans  peur  et 
sans  reproche.    Nor  will  she  who  is  pre- 
pared  for  some  kind  of  useful  work  in  the 
world,  and  keenly  sensitive  to  all  that  is 
true  and  beautiful  whether  in  literature  or 
art  or  human  action  and  character  be  in- 
capacitated for  adorning  the  home,  if  it 
should  become  the  chief  place  of  her  duties, 
because  she  has  ^ready  refused  a  career  of 
fruitless  ease  or  superficial  frivolity.    So  far 
from  die  mental  and  emotional  sides  of  our 
nature  being  developed  in  inverse  propor- 
tion, love  must  be  intelligent,  and  intelli- 
gence must  be  loving  before  either  can 
reach  its  fullest  exercise.    The  groves  of 
the  Academy  are  not  far  away  from  the 
g^den  of  eartii's  Paradise;  and  though 
neidier  the  rea'm  of  thought  nor  feeling  is 
without  its  thorns,  if  Eve  only  have  a  fair 
chan«>,  she  will  be  found  well  qualified,  as 
a  rule,  to  walk  through  both. 
[ii8] 


The   Shut    Door 


"  It  mmi  to  me  sometlmn-I  know  it  !•  .  ptrtW  repre- 
Knutlon-M  if  lif.  were  .  conBict  between  .he  inner  force 
of  ,he  .p,ri.,  wluch  lie.  in  if  f.ith  i„  ,h.  „„„„_„d  the 
outer  force  of  the  world,  which  lie.  i„  d,.  p„..„„  „, 
eveo-thmg  ..h.,  to  .how  u.    The  n,..eri.l.  opening  upon 

what  ..  «Il.d  actuated,  from  without,  wherea.  ,dl  ou 
activity  ought  to  be  from  within." 


The  Shut  Door 


IF  we  lcx)k  back  to  the  beginnings  of 
human  history,  we  shall  see  how  the 
human  race  was  cradled  in  the  pro- 
found thought  of  its  wise  and  great  ones. 
Those  Eastern  sages  sat,  day  after  day,  read- 
ing the  book  of  the  sky,  and  striving  to  com- 
prehend the  mysteries  of  life.  Amid  the 
clash  of  events  in  which  giant  empires  had 
their  rise  and  fall,  they  felt  that  if  the  rid' 
die  of  mankind  was  ever  to  be  answered 
satisfactorily,  the  answer  must  come  fiom 
beyond  this  world.  Such  repose  as  theirs, 
though  it  might  seem  like  doing  nothing, 
was  itself  an  intense  form  of  mental  action, 
and  the  best  preparation  for  visible  action 
when  the  right  time  came.  Out  of  their 
earnest  reverie  dim  hopes  were  shaping ; 
and  as  soon  as  the  lesser  lights  paled  be- 
fore the  superior  radiance  of  heaven's  mir- 

[121] 


•t» 


The     Orb 


1 1     0 


t'T 


'/    Life 


acle,  the  Magi  followed  the  StlTT^ 
nem. 

Our  present  tendency  1,  to  replace  quies- 
cent  Onental.sm  by  nervous  Occidental- 
.sm  We  ar^  apt  to  be  impatient  of  any 
calls  to  reflection,  the  more  so  as  we  often 
seem  to  find  more  sorrow  than  joy  flowing 
out  of  .t.  The  vastness  of  the  field  of 
knowledge  becomes  a  pain  and  a  bewil- 
derment ;  and  though  a  few  things  may  be 

«  easy  as  a  sum  in  arithmetic,  whc.  we 
move  on  a  little  farther,  we  ^  brought 
fece  to  face  with  algebmic  problems  L 
the  r  dreadful  unknown  quantities.  A  gen- 
eml  rout  of  the  army  of  illusion  is  sure  to 

ceofmdoIencewiUtrytoescapeifitcan. 

In  some  quarter,  it  would  be  counted  tour- 
gees  to  take  life  seriously. 

Now.  of  course,  a  policy  of  sUence  in  re- 
gard to  the  most  important  matters  by  no 
means  proves  that  they  are  ignored.  The 
man  whose  caree,  is  swayed  by  a  high 

[123] 


The    Shut  Door 


moral  purpose  does  not  go  around  adver- 
tising the  fact     Even  those  who  seem  most 
frivolous  in  social  intercourse  have  another 
side  to  their  nature  that  is  often  shy  of 
being  discovered.     The  mind's  heavy  ar- 
tillery is  not  to  be  dragged  into  action  at 
an  inopportune  moment,  nor  our  heart  car- 
ried on  our  sleeve  for  daws  to  peck  at     It 
is  not  what  we  talk  about  most,  but  what 
we  feel   most   that  influences  the  quality 
of  character.     And  though  the  rush  of  af- 
fairs, as  we  rush  along  with  them,  ought  to 
teach  us,  by  enforced  experiment,  a  good 
deal  about  the  art  of  living,  if  we  would 
use  even  that  kind  of  education  to  the  best 
advantage,  we  must  have  some  quiet  hours 
besides  in  which  we  can  brood  with  con- 
centrated earnestness  over  the  whole  vast 
subject.     Incessant  doing  is  a  foe  to  being. 
It  threatens  to  make  us  vulgar,  nnd 

"  Disenchanted  of  respect 
Bjr  the  new  world's  new  fiend,  Publicity, 
Whose  testing  thumb  leaves  everywhere  its  smutch." 
['23] 


I 


The     Orbit    of    Life 


Reverent  thought  is  often  the  prelude  to 
purer  manhood.     More  than  once  in  the 
world's  history,  a  Renaissance  has  been  ac- 
companied by  a  Reformation.    In  order  to 
fulfill  the  highest  ends  of  existence,  three 
things  at  least  are  requisite,  a  firm  grasp 
of  truth,  a  clear  conception  of  duty,  and  a 
sincere  resolve  to  walk  in  the  road  up  which 
truth  and  duty  lead  us.    The  ocean  of  the 
infinite  laps  upon  the  shores  of  the  finite, 
and 

"  Hence,  in  a  season  of  calm  weather, 
Though  inland  far  we  be, 
Our  souls  have  sight  of  that  immortal  sea 
Which  brought  us  hither." 

But  if  one  does  not  take  the  trouble  to  ex- 
ercise that  noble  rationality  which  searches 
into  the  depths  of  things,  though  he  may 
have  no  innate  viciousness,  the  mere  slum- 
ber of  thought  is  sure  to  degrade  him. 
The  will  of  God  cannot  be  done  on  earth 
until  we  feel  the  lovely  awe  of  His  presence 
in  the  midst  of  it  As  soon  as  the  d  -or  is 
[  134] 


Th e     '^  lui    iJ 


oor 


shut  against  the  clamorous  appeals  of  self- 
interest  or  passion,  against  the  shallow 
babblings  of  the  market-place,  against  the 
scornful  cynicism  which  laughs  at  any  other 
creed  than  the  utilitarian,  fresh  light  begins 
to  break  in  upon  us.  Perhaps  it  shows  it- 
self first  of  all  in  a  flood  of  hallowed  -nem- 
ories,  when  half-obliterated  scenes  of  the 
past  come  back  to  view,  and  we  seem  to 
see  the  loved  ones  of  long  ago,  and  listen 
once  more  to  their  counsels  and  their 
prayers.  Our  idea  of  conduct  broadens 
under  the  spell  of  recollection.  Some  of 
the  motives  which  were  so  powerful  amid 
the  turmoil  of  life's  thoroughfares  no  longer 
look  worth  much, 

<'  While  just  this  or  that  poor  impulse 
Which  for  once  had  play  unstiHed 
Seems  the  sole  work  of  a  lifetime 
That  away  the  rest  have  trifled." 

And  as  the  spirit  wakens  to  a  fuller  con- 
sciousness of  its  responsibilities,  and  dis- 
cerns how  easily  it  may  be  blunted   in 
[J2S] 


The     Orbit    of    Life 


II' 


its  perceptions,  shorn  of  its  wings  of 
strength,  driven  like  a  sobbing  exile  into 
the  desert,  a  new  hope  and  fear  spring  up 
in  presence  of  the  larger  issues  of  life,  and 
it  will  be  strange  indeed  if  meditation  does 
not  end,  half-unconsciously  perhaps,  in 
humble  cry  to  God. 

Almost  anything  is  possible  after  one 
has  entered  the  inner  sanctuary  of  his  be- 
ing and  learned  the  rich,  strong  lessons 
which  can  only  be  taught  him  there.  So 
far  from  the  habit  of  reflection  leading  to 
a  paralysis  of  practical  activities,  it  is  the 
one  thing  needful  to  impart  to  them  greater 
effectiveness.  And  that  is  always  to  be 
desired,  for  no  one  can  claim  to  have 
reached  his  utmost  development  unless  he 
is  prepared  for  human  fellowship.  But  if 
we  would  make  the  most  of  our  time  with 
others,  we  must  have  some  time  with  our- 
selves. That  man  will  be  a  poor  associate 
for  any  one  else  who  can  never  endure  his 
own  company.     Amid  earth's  doubts  and 

[126] 


i^\ 


The    Shut   Door 


cares  and  sorrows,  he  who  keeps  in  his 
soul  "  the  vision  splendid  "  is  sure  to  find 
plenty  of  work  to  do,  and  will  know  best 
how  to  do  it  To  have  wrestled  alone 
with  his  better  angel  in  the  darkness  of  the 
midnight  clothes  a  man  with  strength  when 
he  goes  forth  to  the  tasks  of  the  morning. 
The  world  is  on  the  watch  for  such  in- 
spirers,  and  they  are  bound  to  take  the 
lead  anywhere. 

It  is  universally  true  that  a  character 
nurtured  in  secret  must  needs  be,  in  some 
form  or  other,  rewarded  openly.  The 
tremendous  force  of  the  blow  struck  by  the 
Japanese  in  their  crucial  struggle  with 
Russia  is  not  explained  by  the  reckless 
valour  of  the  moment.  For  centuries  they 
had  been  trained  in  a  loyal  patriotism,  a 
reverence  for  the  illustrious  dead,  and  a 
belief  that  the  gods  would  help  them  to 
achieve  the  fulfillment  of  their  cherished 
purposes.  Their  triumph  was  the  last 
public  scene  in  a  long  and  hidden  drama 
[127] 


^i 


■i^ 


The     Orbit     of    Life 

of  quiet  preparation  and  brooding  reverie. 
The  old  Greeks  saw  that  every  notable  act 
must  have  notable  thinking  behind  it, 
when  they  tabled  that  Minerva  sprang 
forth  fully  armed  from  the  head  of  Jove. 
Great  poems,  great  works  of  art,  great 
reforms,  great  philosophies  are  the  prod- 
uct of  a  fruitful  quietude.  The  men  who 
compel  events  into  the  channel  of  their 
resolute  will  ^were,  in  most  cases,  matured 
by  a  preliminary  education  of  seeming 
idleness.  Every  one  knows  them  at  last 
because  for  awhile  they  had  the  patience 
and  courage  to  be  unknown. 

Repose  of  the  right  sort  is  one  of  the 
most  urgent  needs  of  the  time.  It  is  not 
to  be  viewed  as  a  luxury  for  the  few  or  a 
solace  for  the  eccentric,  but  as  a  con- 
stituent of  every  life  which  aspires  to  be 
truly  noble  and  good.  We  are  often  in  a 
fever  of  excitement,  and  create  a  small 
hurricane  of  dust  in  our  rapid  flight  hither 
and  thither.     But  we  should  do  more  if 

[12S] 


\^ 


Th e    S h ut    Door 


we  tried  to  do  less,  and  what  was  lost  in 
volume  would  be  amply  made  up  in 
quality.  The  reason  why  so  many  streams 
of  well-intentioned  effort  are  dissipated  in 
a  delta  of  choking  sands  is  because  they 
are  not  fed  from  the  perennial  spring  of 
thought.  The  whole  of  life  would  be  en- 
riched by  more  frequent  excursions  into 
the  Silent  Land. 

Frederic    Amiel    says  of    our  western 
civilization  that  much  of  it  "means  de- 
vouring, incessant  activity.     They  must 
win    gold,    predominance,    power;    they 
must    crush    rivals,   subdue    nature. 
They  bustle  at  the  circumference  of  ex- 
istence because  they  cannot  penetrate  to 
Its  centre.    They  are  restless,  eager,  posi- 
tive,  because    they  are    superficial.      To 
what  purpose  all  this  stir,  noise,  greed 
struggle?    It  is  all  a  mere  being  stunned 
and  deafened  I"    This  is  a  heavy  indict- 
ment; and  even  if  we  do  not  rh<,llenge 
the  competency  of  a  mystic  to  bear  wit- 
[  I2&] 


i'^ 


■!~-     \:. 


The     Orbit     of    Life 


i 


I: 


ness,  we  shall  at  least  try  to  break  the 
force  of  his  criticism  by  pointing  out  that 
the  initial  movements  among  any  people 
in  a  new  world  are  bound  to  assume  a 
severely  practical  form.  Where  fortune 
can  only  be  won  by  prosaic  toil,  commer- 
cial standards  of  value  are  apt  to  become 
dominant  and  when  a  matter  is  presented 
before  the  average  citizen,  he  is  less  in- 
clined to  ask,  "  What  will  it  teach  me  ?  " 
than  "How  much  is  it  worth ? "  And  yet, 
a  nation  in  its  industrious  youth  is  far 
more  likely  to  be  sane  than  if  it  should 
afterwards  fall  under  the  sway  of  effemi- 
nate ease  and  luxury.  If  the  task  of  self- 
culture  is  postponed  till  all  other  tasks  are 
done,  it  may  never  be  commenced  at  all. 
The  annals  of  the  world  prove  that  great 
history-builders  require  to  have  a  fine 
calibre  both  of  brain  and  heart,  since  the 
full  significance  of  the  material  can  only 
be  grasped  in  the  overshadowing  presence 
[130] 


fr 


Shut 


^0  or 


of  the  spiritual.     Man  is  not  a  mere  ma- 
chine for  making  money  or  anything  else 
external  to  him,  and  therefore,  if  thought 
IS  drowned  in  a  maelstrom  of  fussiness,  he 
will  soon  lose  his  hold  upon  that  which  he 
seems  to  have.    The  more  strenuous  the 
labour,  the  greater  the  necessity  for  that 
kmd  of  rest  whose  main  office  it  is  to  make 
labour  more  virile  and  more  beneficent. 
"Where  there  is  no  vision,   the  people 
pensh."    And  though  it  may  be  given  to 
only  a  comparative  few  to  fill  their  solitude 
with  a  hierarchy  of  ideas  which  ensure 
them  immortal  renown,  and  by  the  sheer 
force  of  their  intrinsic  merit,  assert  their 
influence  in  course  of  time  through  every 
stratum  of  society,  to  no  one  is  denied  the 
privilege,  if  he  will,  of  looking  into  the 
grave,  sweet  face  of  truth,  and  so  keeping 
in  the  inner  chamber  of  the  soul  certain 
august  thoughts  which  shall  shed  their 
light  over  the  road  of  daily  activity,  and 
[131  j 


'fil 


n 


The     Orbit    of    Life 

restore  to  earth  something  of  the  old 
loveliness  of  the  lost  Paradise  where  the 
Lord  God  walked  among  the  trees  of  the 
garden  in  the  cool  of  the  day. 


8^  iV 


[132] 


>ld 
he 
:he 


TAe  Two  Bodies 


..1 


iS 


k 


-  No  face  I  only  the  tight 
Of  a  »wecpy  gariueni,  vast  and  white, 
With  a  hem  that  I  could  recognize." 

— Brownino  :  Ciriitmas  Em. 

"  y^\  diitince,  quand  on  est  sftr  de  I'amour,  eit  li  pea  de 
choie." 

— HlNKY  BoKOIAUX:  La  Pturdl  Vivrt. 

'•  For,  whenas  each  thing  bad  thou  has  entombed, 
And,  last  of  all,  thy  greedy  self  consumed. 
Then  long  Eternity  shall  greet  our  bliu 
With  an  individual  kiu." 

—Milton  :  On  Timi. 


The  Two  Bodies 

(An  Easter  Study) 

WHEN  the  Risen  Christ  appeared 
to  Mary  Magdalene,  the  fourth 
Gospel  tells  us  that  she  sup- 
posed Him  to  be  the  gardener.     He  had 
been  buried  in  a  garden,  and  the  flowers 
were  blooming  and  the  birds  singing  and 
the  whole  worid  full  of  life  as  He  lay  there 
in  the  new  sepulchre.     But  Mary  was  not 
yet  prepared  to  conceive  it  possible  that 
He  might  be  alive  too.'    So  far  from  being 
glad  because  the  stone  was  removed  and 
the    tomb-house  emptied  of  its  Tenant, 
these  things  only  filled  her  mind  with  alarm 
and  misgiving.     When  the  bright  guard- 
ians of   the  place  said,   "Woman,   why 
weepest  thou?"  she  answered,  "Because 
they  have  taken  away  my  Lord."    And  as 
she    turned     back,    another    voice    said 
r'35] 


I!} 


Mi'! 


!'•» 


The    Orbit    of    Life 


"  Woman,  why  weepest  thou  ? "  It  was 
only  the  gardener,  she  thought ;  and  if  he 
knew  anything  about  the  matter,  sui  ,  .le 
would  not  be  cruel  enough  to  conceal  it. 
"  If  thou  hast  borne  Him  hence,"  she  cried, 
"  tell  me  where  thou  hast  laid  Him."  And 
then  again  she  hears  the  voice  which  now 
seemed  more  intimate  and  penetrating  as 
it  called  her  by  name.  She  could  not  un- 
derstand, but  she  is  obliged  to  believe. 
Through  the  channels  of  sound,  her  heart 
is  set  trembling  with  a  strange  delight  al- 
most painful  in  its  intensity.  Only  two 
words  make  the  dialogue ;  but  they  are 
enough.  "  Mary  I "  "  Master  I "  and  her 
tears  are  dried. 

In  one  way,  Mary's  mistake  was  not  so 
serious  after  all.  We  do  not  know  what 
sort  of  a  man  Joseph  of  Arimathea  had 
chosen  to  look  after  his  trees  and  plants  ; 
but  we  can  imagine  that  he  was  of  kindly 
disposition,  and,  perhaps,  an  unconfessed 
follower  of  the  Nazarene.  However  that 
['36] 


Th. 


W  0 


Bod 


tes 


may  be,  Mary  had  indeed  met  the  Gardener 
who  tentis  all  the  flowers,  big  and  little, 
ugly  and  beautiful  in  the  great  world- 
garden,  opening  the  soil  to  God's  sunshine, 
rooting  out  the  noxious  weed,  pruning  the 
shoots  when  they  require  it,  watching  with 
solicitous  care  the  early  buds  of  promise, 
rejoicing  in  the  ripened  fruit,  and  when  the 
withered  stem  falls  to  the  ground,  closing 
it  up  in  mother-earth  if  haply  it  may  ob- 
tain a  better  resurrection. 

And  though  Mary  was  not  in  the  right 
mood  for  observing  with  exactness,  she 
could  scarcely  have  mistaken  Jesus  for  the 
gardener  if  His  body  had  not  seemed  dis- 
tinctly  human.  Though  refined  of  the 
grosser  qualities  of  matter,  and  untram- 
melled by  its  hampering  limitations,  it  was 
more  than  a  mere  nebulous  phantom.  It 
had  a  definite  form,  unlike  that  of  the 
mortal  body  in  some  respects  perhaps,  yet 
sufficiently  like  it  to  be  recognizable  when 
the  mists  of  disappointment  were  cleared 
[137] 


The     Orbit    of    Life 

away.  It  presented  a  tangible  basis  of  re- 
membrance, an  image  round  which  love's 
garlands  might  safely  twine ;  and  the  soul 
that  shone  through  it  and  transfigured  it 
with  a  spiritual  radiance,  helped  to  make 
the  disciple  sure  that  she  had  once  more 
found  her  Lord. 

No  doubt  one  may  think  too  much  of  the 
body,  but  it  is  quite  possible  to  think  too 
litde  of  it.  We  need  feel  no  special  obliga- 
tion to  apologrize  for  the  way  God  created 
us.  A  spirit  all  by  itself  might  be  not 
only  cold  and  lonesome,  but  narrowed  in 
its  range  of  energy.  The  very  nature  of 
the  finite  seems  to  call  for  some  kind  of  con- 
crete manifestation ;  and  though  the  body 
we  now  have  is  clearly  not  adapted  for 
eternal  uses,  a  higher  order  of  body  may  be. 
This  is  how  a  g^eat  Apostle  seems  to 
reason  when  he  says,  "If  there  is  a 
natural  body,  there  is  also  a  spiritual 
body."  To  some,  indeed,  "a  spiritual 
body"  may  sound  contradictory.  But  it 
[138] 


The    Two    Bod 


t  e  s 


does  not  follow  that  the  complete  banish- 
ment   of    the  corporeal   will   ensure  the 
emergence  of  the  spiritual.     We  are  on  the 
road  to  the  spiritual  when  we  begin  to  learn 
the  noblest  truths  which  the  material  has  to 
teach  us.    There  are  enough  bad  ghosts  in 
the  world  to  disprove  the  ancient  heresy 
that  matter  is  the  primary  seat  of  evil.    In- 
finite wisdom  as  well  as  infinite  love  lies 
behind  the  swirl  oi  atoms,  and  destines 
natural  processes  to  be  part  of  the  great 
evolutionary  movement  towards  the  final 
triumph  of  that  which  is  good.    And  yet, 
a  child  must  understand  that  life  does  not 
depend  upon  the  transmission  of  matter, 
but  rather  involves  the  getting  rid  of  it  in 
a  lower  form  that  it  may  reappear  in  a 
higher.    If  identity  were  lost  in  the  change, 
resurrection  would    become  meaningless. 
But  identity  is  retained  by  virtue  of  a  vital 
principle  that  underlies  matter  and  has 
the  mastery  over  it    The  goal  to  which 
the  Resurrection  of  Jesus  points  the  way  is 
[«39  3 


m 


yi' 


) 


The     Orbit    of    L  ife 

the  gfradual  glorifying  of  the  body  until  it 
is  made  perfectly  obedient  to  the  spirit 
which  weaves  such  a  garrjent  as  new  condi- 
tions necessitate. 

Some  of  the  Church  Fathers  maintained 
a  literal  rising  of  the  earthly  body.  And 
though  in  thoughtless  moments  we  still  use 
forms  of  expression  which  seem  to  en- 
courage this  half-pagan  belief,  it  has  been 
destroyed  by  an  overwhelming  mass  of 
evidence.  Science  demonstrates  that  such 
a  thing  is  contrary  to  all  analogies.  Rea- 
son says  that  the  idea  is  worthless,  unless 
we  hold  that  the  body  is  the  man.  The 
New  Testament  gives  no  warrant  whatever 
for  it.  And,  perhaps,  even  sentiment  might 
make  many  of  us  hesitate  to  keep  through 
eternity  a  physique  which,  however  well  it 
has  served  us  here,  is  scarcely  up  to  the 
ideal.  Matter  must  needs  be  in  perpetual 
flux,  and  when  once  buried,  it  can  never 
reappear  unchanged. 

Of  course,  we  know  that  it  is  not  simply 
['40] 


The    Two  Bod 


t  e  s 


the  utward  form  of  our  friends  that 
inspires  affection.  Love  which  is  only 
physical  ought  to  take  another  name,  just 
as  some  of  the  heathen  deities  did  when 
they  went  to  hell.  Eros  must  be  pure  be- 
fore he  can  win  Psyche  for  his  bride. 
Whatever  may  be  the  full  meaning  of 
those  mysterious  words,  "  Touch  me  not," 
with  which  Christ  checked  the  impulse  of 
His  gladdened  follower,  they  seem  to  sug- 
gest that  the  truest  comradeship  is  a  union 
of  souls  which  laughs  at  distance,  because, 
in  some  ways  at  least,  it  gains  a  victory 
over  it.  Religion  itself  would  be  a  chimera 
if  we  were  not  able  to  love  the  invisible. 
And  yet,  while  the  heart's  warmth  is  not 
determined  by  mere  juxtaposition,  it  must 
be  admitted  that  bodily  presence  means  a 
great  deal.  That  would  be  a  colourless 
affection  which  thinks  nothing  of  the  tread 
of  the  footstep,  the  touch  of  the  hand,  the 
glance  of  the  eye,  the  many  little  personal 
ways  which,  though  others  might  scarcely 
[HI] 


The     Orbit    of    Life 


I 
I 


I 


notice  them,  in  love's  sight  become  so 
dear  and  sacred.  For  the  body  is  a  means 
of  revelation.  The  style  of  house  inclines 
us  to  conjecture  something  of  the  immortal 
dweller  inhabiting  it.  Down  the  avenues 
of  sense,  we  try  to  catch  some  glimpses, 
however  vague  and  shadowy,  of  the  vistas 
of  the  spirit;  and  when  we  have  found 
our  deepest  selves,  then  are  we  nearest  to 
finding  God. 

But,  since  appearance  is  often  the  very 
opposite  of  reality,  we  are  liable  to  be  de- 
ceived in  our  first  superficial  vision.    The 
body  may  hide  as  many  characteristics 
as  it  reveals.    And  therefore,  resurrection 
seems  to  demand  a  body  that  shall  not 
only  be  free  from  disease  and  corruption, 
from  weariness  and  pain,  but  from  which 
thr  accidental  and  incomplete  shall  be  left 
out,  so  that  it  perfectly  reflects  the  pure  pas- 
sion of  the  life  within.    Christ  views  resur- 
rection not  as  a  mere  physical  process,  but 
rather  as  a  moral  achievement,  and  His 
[142] 


imw^tjitn 


The    Two  Bodies 

own  Resurrection  is  the  most  unique  and 
memorable  instance  of  it.    If  any  one  pro- 
poses to  make  a  successful  assault  upon 
the  belief  of  Christendom,  he  must  not  be 
content  simply  to  storm  the  outposts  of 
historical  testimony,  nor  maintdn  a  guerilla 
warfare  of  scientific  nescience.    He  must 
attack  the  very  citadel    and   stronghold 
which  is  Christ's  own  character.    The  mere 
fact  that  He  rose  adds  nothing  to  His 
.rreatness,  but  simply  makes  His  greatness 
anifes^     It  would  have  been  a  miracle  if 
His  own  inherent  vital  force  had  not  burst 
every  fetter  which  sought  to  confine  it. 
The   threescore   years  and  ten  are  m>-  3 
than  enough  for  narrow  and  sordid  living, 
and  an  ageless  eternity  would  only  em- 
barrass those  who  were  not  in  some  meas- 
ure prepared  for  it.    But  the  lofty  aspira- 
tion,  the    unhimUed    desire,   the    broken 
service  may  be  safely  carried  forward  into 
the  hereafter;  and  they  necessitate  an  or- 
ganism in  which  the  soul  shall  be  able  to 
[143] 


V. 


iM 


i 


f 


7'/4e     Orbit    of    Life 

continue  its  splendid  taslcs  under  the  best 
conditions,  what  is  now,  at  times,  an  irk- 
some conflict  being  exchanged  for  a  glori- 
ous harmony. 

It  seems  hard  to  understand  how  any 
one  who  believes  in  heaven  at  all  could 
ever  have  supposed  that  the  companion- 
ships of  earth  will  have  no  place  there ; 
that  love  wiU  go  moaning  in  vain  through 
all  eternity,  or,  what  is  even  worse,  die  out 
in    the  ashes  of   complete  forgetfulness. 
Every  true  affection  is  kindled  at  a  Divine 
fire,  and  is  not  likely  to  be  extinguished 
when  its  full  warmth  is  all  around.     On 
the  contrary,  what  was  real  before,  and  not 
artificial,  will  surely  be  still  more  real,  and 
the  heart  will  exult  in  new-found  .sympa- 
thies.   Here,  in  the  midst  of  our  imperfect 
insight,  we  do  not  always  know  who  would 
most  inspire  us,  or  be  most  inspired  by  us. 
But  when  the  "  body  of  humiliation  "  gives 
place  to  that  luminous  robe  through  which 
the  spirit  shines,  shall  we  not  be  far  more 
L'44] 


The   Two  Bod 


tes 


alert  to  detect  every  mark  of  individuality, 
and  find  that  no  barriers  of  prejudice,  no 
cruel  misunderstandings,  no  narrow  jeal- 
ousy, no  divided  interests  darken  the  inter- 
course of  the  hiture,  or  prevent  it  from  run- 
ning in  the  channels  which  God  and  Nature 
intended  for  it  ? 

Our  limited  knowledge  of  the  after-realm 
ought  to  check  too  confident  assertion  in 
regard  to  it    But  this,  at  least,  we  must 
feel  to  be  true,  that  the  Father  puts  no 
clean  longings  in  our  breast  only  to  visit 
them  at  last  with  the  bitter  irony  of  extinc- 
tion.   The  antics  of  a  false  "  spiritualism  " 
need  not  blind  us  to  the  magnificent  possi- 
bilities involved  in  the  soul's  enthronement 
to    its    place    of    rightful    preeminence. 
While  what  is  mortal  in  our  nature  will  be 
left  behind,  what  is  immortal  will  abide. 
Robert  Browning  was  in  no  sensuous  mood 
when  he  wrote  Evelyn  Hope.     Is  it  absurd 
to  think  that  heaven  will  adjust  all  previous 
relationships,  each  in  a  fitting  way,  and  at 
[I4S] 


The     Orbit    of    Life 

the  same  time  bring  some  that  were  onty 
foreshadowed  here  to  an  ideal  completion? 

"  The  waten  know  their  own,  ud  drew 

■nie  brook  that  iprings  Jrom  jronder  heisbt  j 
So  Sows  the  good,  with  equal  law, 
Unto  the  Kul  of  pure  delight 

"  The  stars  come  nightly  to  the  sky. 
The  tidal  wa»e  unto  the  sea ; 
Nor  time,  nor  space,  nor  deep,  nor  high 
Can  keep  my  own  away  from  me." 

We  are  prone  to  lay  too  much  emphasis 
upon  the  episode  called  Deatii.    No  doubt 
it  marks  a  boundary  of  vision,  and  puts  an 
end  to  die  familiar  setting  of  tilings.    But 
it  desti-oys  no  butii.     It  shakes  notiiing 
that  is  permanent    If  life  was  tiiere  be- 
fore, life  will  be  there  after.     It  is  an  intro- 
duction ratiier  than  a  finale,  and  prepares 
the  way  for  perfecting  tiie  equation  be- 
tween surroundings  and  character.     Even 
in  its  powers  of  severance  it  is  distinctiy 
limited.    The  brave  and  tine  of  every  age 
are  die  world's  perpetual  inheritance.    The 
more  we  have  loved  our  dear  ones,  tiie  less 
[146] 


*rh  e    Tw  0    Bod 


t  e  s 


are  they  lost  altogether.  Their  memory 
aad  influence  remain.  The  subtle  persua- 
sion that  they  are  stiU  alive  cannot  be  got 
rid  of;  and  possibly,  if  we  had  keener 
vision,  we  might  catch  a  glimpse  now  and 
then  of  the  spiritual  body,  as  Christ's  first 
disciples  did,  and  thus,  in  some  hour  of 
deep  gloom,  perhaps,  be  able  to  anticipate 
the  time  when  we  shall  see  them  without 
a  veil  between. 


['47] 


